We (Have) Moved!

Ok, just a disclaimer because being an aspiring writer, authorship issues bug me: all the posts before this one were not posted by my fellow writer jdsarge91, but by me on www.facebook.com as notes. Just a disclaimer. He just set up this whole thing before I did and then told me to make an account. Just in case anyone was wondering...

Anyway!

As many of you know, I work as a waiter at a nursing home. Now, my friend Kelcie constantly reminds me how I work with the dimentia patients... only she's never been to Covenant Village to know that she's wrong. 90% of the residents I serve are simply old people that don't want to live in their own homes.

The reason she tries to remind me of such a thing is because working at Covenant Village just makes me HATE the elderly. Here's 5 reasons why:

5. Personal Space

The only reason this is #5 is because this hasn't happened in a long time. I used to have this happen a lot though. The name tag I would wear on my uniform was attached to a retractable holder. Only, the tag would easily pivot and turn over... covering my name.

When the oldies would come up to reserve a table with the hostess, they would look at me. Try to find out my name (you know, they couldn't just ASK me) and reach out their hand going straight for my chest. Meanwhile, my heart is pounding and my adrenaline is pumping and every Puerto Rican instinct in my body is telling me to break said old person's arm before he strangles me to death(!). But finally the moment passes and they just flip my name tag over so they can read my name.

Mother of Mary, haven't these people ever heard of PERSONAL SPACE? I'm sure it's located somewhere in the employee rights section of the handbook. And if it's not, then I'm adding it. Because honestly, there is nothing quite like the terror one feels when seeing a lizard-esque hand coming at you for an unknown purpose.

As of today, my swivelling name-tag has been replaced with a simple clip tag. This actually is a step down from my old tag which was extremely easy to slide in and out of the time-clock. Now I have to nearly hump the wall just to sign myself in and out. The reason for the change? Not because of the personal space issue (which hasn't happened for months actually) but because apparantly, my supervisor was getting emails from residents that they couldn't read our name tags because they kept getting flipped over.

That's right, old people had nothing BETTER to do than to sit around and think, "Hm... I want to read my waiter's nametag." but since they can't, they take the time to learn how to use the internet, set up an email account, spend the next seven hours typing an email, and then actually care enough to send the email to my supervisor informing her about something that in reality, doesn't matter for more than three seconds.

What bitches.

4. Patience, and lack thereof

Me: Tonight we're having peach yogurt for desert tonight.
Ol' Bitch: What kind of peaches are they?
Me: Peaches? It's yogurt.
Ol' Bitch: Yes, but what kind of peaches are they?
Me: Ma'am, it's yogurt. Not actual peaches.
Ol' Bitch: Yes, but are the peaches freezedried? Or are they fresh?
Me: ... they're peaches. It's frozen and comes in a tub.
Ol'Bitch: But I'm asking if they're fresh or freezedried.
Me: I know, but it's all frozen. It's yogurt. I don't know how to answer your question.
Ol'Bitch: All I want to know is if they're fresh or freezedried. Can you tell me that?
Me: The answer is NEITHER. It's YOGURT.
Ol'Bitch: Ugh, nevermind, forget it, you're useless.
Me: ... *walk away*

3. Coffee?

I have two hands.

"Excuse me, can I have some coffee?"

Sure, one second. Just let me serve these to Table 23. Anyway, I have two hands a list of priorities when it comes to serving the residents. Hot food first.

"Excuse me, decaff coffee?"

Yes, just a moment please. Like I was saying, Hot food first, cold food second, hot...

"Excuse me, we need some more coffee over here."

Sigh... cold food second, hot drinks afterward. Just before cold drinks. So that means desserts...

"Coffee!?"

PLEASE. Just. Wait. I'll be there in a second. Coffee has priority over only one thing: juices. So just excuuuuse me if I don't drop an entire plate of melting desserts just to satisfy your caffeine fix. Well, 90% of the coffee they ask for is decaffinated. So I have no idea why they want to drink it.

Interesting note: 80% of the people that ask for coffee ask for decaff. 90% of the people that ask for decaff are complete bitches. Of the 20% that ask for regular coffee, 75% of them are actually really nice. This must be because they need the caffeine to operate normally. Which must mean that if you give the bitchy decaff people regular coffee, they get really bad.

2. "He never smiles."

I had to seat this woman and her husband once. For some reason, she simply could not remember me for the first six months I worked there. She would ask how long I worked there. I would tell her six months. She would say, "Oh, I don't know you. What's your name?" and I would tell her.

Finally, I told her that I've seated her many times and I have no idea why she didn't remember me. I've learned to regret that decision. Because she's hasn't really remembered me by name, just as the waiter who never smiles. Well, you've just finished three reasons why I wouldn't smile, now here's the fourth.

It just... for some reason, pisses me off when people have to point out that I don't walk around wearing an ear-to-ear grin all the time. I'm tempted to believe that despite organized crime, the Great Depression, World War II, McCarthyism, race riots, and nuclear scare, people from 1920 to 1990 walked around smiling their asses off. Because they sure don't now.

1. Tartar Sauce

The number one reason why I hate working at Covenant Village: tartar sauce. It's the single most disgusting piece of shit I've EVER had the displeasure of having near my nostrils. I've never tasted it, but dear God, I don't ever want to touch it.

For unknown reason, the elderly MUST have tartar sauce with their seafood. If your only source of knowledge about tartar sauce is Spongebob Squarepants, let me explain the ingredients for tartar sauce: eat loads of crab, wait five minutes, puke, and add ranch dressing. Voila. You've just made tartar sauce.

Now put that on some delicious baked salmon... and you've just destroyed a perfectly fine meal.

I have no problem with what the elderly eat, I just hate the fact that I have to actually pull a huge jar of this shit out of the fridge to serve it.

"It's not that bad. You don't have to eat it!"

Yes, but it doesn't just look like puke and rance dressing, it SMELLS like it. The scent simply invades your nostrils and assaults them like Operation Barbarossa.

Conclusion: the elderly suck.