Oh, the insanity of life. While at my second shift Monday afternoon, during the pre-opening staff meeting, the Reverend stumbled in shouting my name. “Arthur!” The manager looked over and made eye contact. “Who me? No, Arthurs over there.” The Reverend approached where I sat, in front of the rest of my coworkers, and asked for his twenty dollars. A twenty bill that was owed to him, by me in fact. I had forgotten that two weeks ago I went on a rant about everytime the Reverend comes in selling his beanie babies for charity and shows the staff his pink monkey how I wanted to buy it. Over the weekend, when I wasn’t working, someone actually told the Reverend to leave the pink monkey, and every day since then he’s been in looking for me. Looking for his money.
The pink monkey is mine. Thats the good news. The bad news is to make the money I stayed for two hours off the clock. That wasn’t the only reason I stayed at work on a double shift (13 hours or so) off the clock. The other reason was that my Monday night stalker came into the restaurant and sat at the raw bar, to talk to me while I worked. He came in last week too and did the same thing. And the week before, with his sister. Thats when I got his “number” because his sister gave it to me, and then last week he came in and gave it to me himself. Talked my ear off! You can actually still see the bite marks. And because I am so new at the job and just trying to be nice to people (old innocent me, always relying on the kindness of strangers) last week I gave him my number. Now he’s all upset and wants to hang out, or at least hang out at the restaurant while I am working and talk my ear off again. I did my best under pressure to brush him off, and told the staff of the predicament.
One of the bartenders, however, has a sick, Midwestern type of humor (he doesn’t know me too well, either). This bartender tried to get me cut right when the stalker came in, so that I would have to walk out in front of the stalker and therefore be confronted by him to “hang out.” Well, I blitzed the management and told them the predicament. They let me stay working, if I punched out, and supplied beer to help me through. That was the plan and I stuck to it; that bartender learned just how resourceful street attorneys can be.
Now I realize I just have to stiffen up my backbone and tell this guy to get lost. Make up whatever floats to my brain first and let him have it. Be firm. Eliot made me feel better by reminding me that I am only playing good game theory: give the positivity first, but if met with negativity, take back.