Apocalypse Now

Today marks the end of the Mayan Calendar as well as the beginning of Winter Solstice; a little late in the game, winter, but I suppose its better late than never.

Today was a testament of my patience, my ability to forgive, and my incredible capacity to smile when you feel like the world is ending. With that test of virtue, I begin this open letter- a reminder to let you know that despite our greatest differences, we are on the same fucking team.

You spoke ill of me to others; you however, are not the only guilty party. The vicious words which escaped your lips were like venom; and here I thought I was wrong in my initial hesitation to befriend you. Infuriated I became, and my eyes began to burn, but I took a deep breath and this I say to you. I don't know what it is about me that irks you, I may not have the same accolades as you do, but I'm just as eager to learn. What a trying year its been, and still that proves to be the case. I acknowledged the fact that I am not what you are, but it doesn't make me a liar; I have not falsified my qualifications nor my accomplishments and I will not let your weary words devalue what I've done. Take pride in what you know and teach others; you do what you do because you love it, and so do I. Remember, we're on the same team, and we'll get nowhere fast if we can't just shoot the shit and treat each other well.

Forecast: High Winds, Low Humidity, Extreme Anxiety

I cannot being to express, not in words nor in actions, how truly exhausted I really am.

 I flew into Chicago Thursday morning, I arrived around 9:30, stopping only a few times to check out O'Hare, use the facilities, and ask for directions. Chicago is a nice city, with nice people (from what I gather), and they've got a public transportation system that rivals that of New York City- all positive things one loves about a city.

The seat cover changes itself; the marvels of modern technology has brought me to this very moment in time

Chicago, The Windy City. Think about wind for just a moment, how it tussles your hair, chaps your lips and nose, makes riding a bicycle really hard...whatever conception you have about wind is completely obliterated when you step foot into this city; bike riders of Chicagoland, I salute you. Seriously, it took only about an hour for the wind to really pick up, and on this fairly warm (45 degrees Fahrenheit) winter day; I had bangs that were comparable to that of Tiffany Amber Theissen's on the formative teen favorite, Saved by the Bell. 

Look at that height, ladies and gentlemen.

I am not on vacation; I rushed to check-in to my hostel which was conveniently located near the blue line train, the airport, and downtown (good job me!). I settled into my 6-bed room, which was occupied by other travelers but empty at the time, and immediately took a 4 hour nap. One of the sous chef at my current place of employment has been sick, and I am convinced that it is his fault that I contracted a rather nasty cough/cold combination-but one must conquer, one must overcome, one must at all cost, succeed.

I am here on business, I am here to make myself more accomplished, and with that, I proceeded upstairs to the common area to study. Just shy of a month ago, I contracted another, rather nasty, and highly communicable illness know to health professionals as "Aseptic Meningitis" otherwise known as "Viral Meningitis" also known as "We don't really know what is wrong with you but we have to do a spinal tap to make sure its not Bacterial Meningitis"- which is truly the least amount of fun anyone can ever have.

ARE YOU FUCKING LOOKING AT THAT NEEDLE? IT WAS IN MY SPINE, COLLECTING  PRECIOUS CEREBROSPINAL FLUID.

 In my recovery, I stayed in bed and watched some movies, refrained from eating, and surfed the interwebs. While surfing, I came upon an article on the Eater website which highlighted the best cocktail bars in the country- my restaurant was on the list as well as some other bars I'd visited during my travels this year. I read through and then immediately disregarded it, until I saw on the Eater jobs section that one of the more acclaimed venues, The Aviary, was looking for "drink makers and ice chefs". 

I miss bartending so much, but no one seems to want to let me do it; things don't happen if you don't do your part to make them happen, so I polished my resume, constructed a masterful cover letter, and compiled a list of references whom all have high accolades in various aspects of the industry. Paired with a modest email, I sent all the documents I felt they would need to see that I was a worthy candidate for the position and off it went into the internet webland. 

Holy shit, they emailed me back.

After some actual research, because even when I applied I still had no idea what it is they actually did at The Aviary, I almost shit myself...well not really, but I got really kind of nervous and excited. Their website is really quite vague, so I hopped on the ol' YouTube, and checked out some videos- I may have gotten myself into some shit I am not prepared for.

I met that guy , his name is Owen. 

(you can read more about the high end shit they do at The Aviary here)

This is the "Porthole", the ingredients change according to season; I made a few, and it was terrifying.

I don't take baby steps because I am a grown ass woman, so I plunged right in to my stage, or working interview. 

I was terribly bad at everything.

I fucked up a lot, and there was some yelling, some "you need to focus when you're handling product", and quite a few "silent obscenities", and one "you need to be more gentle with the fridge door, don't let it happen again". I was feeling tired, and low, also, I neglected to wear deodorant, and that was a self-conscious problem that I had for the entire shift. 

The staff is great, they all really seem to know what they're doing, and the manager's are on point- especially the taller Stephanie, who is a nice person up until service, and then she becomes a speed-demon who is really good at her job (kudos to you). I did not want to piss off this woman, or any of the chefs, or anyone who came in for drinks, or anyone who was in a 6 mile radius of the establishment.

I made it through an entire service on a busy Friday night, ain't nothing like throwing fresh meat into a 1000000000000000 degree fire to really see what it's made of. I sat down with the managers, Micah and Charles, who seemed drastically different, but they work really well together. It was very "Godfather", they sat in a plush booth and faced me, sitting solo in a chair and thus began the 2nd part of the interview.

After some discussion, acknowledging the mistakes, owning them, and then being extremely candid, they extended an offer. THEY OFFERED ME A FUCKING JOB. 

Maybe they were on a natural high, or drunk on power, or someone hit them so hard on the noggin that their brain functions were highly impaired, but I smiled on the inside and felt like I had accomplished something great.

They told me to sleep on it, give it some thought, and get back to them when I was ready. That was Friday night/Saturday morning. I still haven't responded, and I am still giving it serious thought, but I want to be sure. It's an intense setting, dramatically different from anything I've ever done, but it could be one of the best things I ever do for myself. 

I still don't know what I'm going to say, but for now, I'm going to down another cup of coffee, eat some lunch, check out some going's-on, and enjoy Chicago for a few more hours before my journey home.