Sand baths

I simply cannot afford to induldge in anger. Anger distracts me. It takes me out of being present when I wait on my tables. I lose things, and I lose money when I let myself stay angry.

It has been too chilly at night lately to take a sand bath. I don't think I've described that yet. My Israeli bartender friend turned me on to it. You sit at the edge of the surfline, pick up handfulls of wet sand, and vigorously scrub your whole body with it. Rinse in the sea, then with fresh water. Shampoo if you have hair. It leaves you feeling very clean.

So it has been too cold lately to get naked on the beach at night, let alone naked and wet, until tonight. So I am having a glass of wine, cheerfully waiting for it to get dark enough so I won't offend my neighbors, and guess who comes rolling up on their four-wheelers? You got it, Miami Beach's finest... Well, first of all, I am subject to arrest for drinking wine on the beach. Second, where do I live? It is THE SAME guy that frisked me that first night. Staying with a friend at... do I have permission to search your bag? Seems some woman had her phone stolen by a white guy in a white t-shirt... right. When were you arrested last? I don't think "fuck you" is a very smart response.

Long story, short version; I stay at peace, and still get kicked off the beach and don't get my sand bath. I figure had I stayed I may have been mugged. And also, as I'm sitting off the beach putting my shoes on, a whole bunch of people come walking out after me. Guess there were a lot of phones stolen tonight...

Today at noon, when everyone was waking up after partying all night, and comming for breakfast, we ran out of eggs. We didn't get low on eggs. After I sold two omlets and two eggs benedict, we had no more eggs. Shortly after, I was reprimanded for selling two eggs for $2.00. It was a side of scrambled that the waitress I am training rang up as eggs any style. That dish comes with a bunch of stuff. Only the scrambled eggs came out. I saw them, the server saw them, but somehow it was really the full plate. And no wonder breakfast sales are falling when I sell a $6.50 plate for $2.00. All this after I worked a party, as a barback (hard work), until 5:00, then had to be back at 10:00.

I contemplated walking out again, but I had this really strange, almost surreal calmness the whoke time. Maybe it was shell shock, maybe it was divine intervention. When we ran out of eggs, the restuarant emptied very quickly, and things got dicey. Evil owner-wife yelled at the drunk cook for easily 5 minutes straight over the radio. I got yelled at, my trainee got yelled at. After maybe 45 minutes of yelling, they both left. I guess she said she will never come back to the restuarant again. We should be so lucky.

Things got quiet. We didn't set the empty tables or solicit customers. Still, I got a two-top. I really wonder about who would sit in that place, looking the way it did. Turned out to be a good check, and they left me a couple bucks over. And we all just sat for two hours because we couldn't find the spirit to go on. Till the husband came back. I set the tables, my trainee walked around, but she wouldn't take any more tables. I had four. I think it broke her, don't think I'll see her again. So much for evening shifts and days off. Actually, I'm still going to take a day off. I need it.

I am really tired, salty, and stinky. My wonderful plans for becomming king of the restuarant are set back a bit. But basic training was worse; atleast I can drink if I feel like it, and I don't have to do push-ups. I am not worried about my soulmate, my two female friends, my job, or my boat. I made it through the day, and I am still sucking air. Ready to go to sleep and do it again tommorow.

The owners now have a letter of intent to purchase, and I'm going with my friend again tomorrow to dance to live reggae. Life goes on whether I am angry or not. Things go smoother, and I enjoy it more though, when I don't induldge my anger. It is a choice.