Okay, so I don’t normally do this sort of thing, but I have volunteered as a walker in this year’s Nashville Cares AIDS Walk as a part of the Nashville Greys team. I’m as broke as Scott Stapp’s career right now, so I can only give $10.

But, enterprising ol’ me thought that maybe a few of you high rollin’, IT bitches might want to cough up some dough for a great cause. Even if you have just $1 to give, bring that shit on. I want to help us at least get to our $200 goal. That would be nice. DONATE HERE. Or if you are wary of giving your info to charities, DONATE HERE and I’ll give it to them.

And if you can’t contribute but live in Nashville and want to walk, then by all means sign on up. We’ll race.

Work yesterday was more than eventful. I was the “late server” yesterday, meaning that after everyone else leaves at 2, I stay until 4 or later taking all the mid-day tables. Usually on a Monday I’ll have 2 or 3 or 4 tables in those last two hours. But yesterday the people continued to pour in well after lunch rush. I was waiting on six tables, two of them 4-tops with multiple courses.

One lady had an allergy to onions and needed me to quiz everyone in the kitchen about her order. She ordered the chicken quesadilla with no scallions or salsa, but also needed to know if her chicken had been marinated in anything that had ever touched an onion. All the while my new 4-top beside her sat drinkless. I found out about the chicken–there was and never had been any onion–and watched as even more new tables accumulated in my section.

Waiting tables at this time of day can be very frustrating. All the waitresses have gone home, as has the bartender. So I have to pour my own wine, run all the food that comes up and reach for condiments and dressings that were long ago put away. Everything takes twice as long.

The kitchen that time of day is filled with both the lunch and night kitchen crew, PFG and Sysco representatives and the gentlemen who refill our coffee and tea and shout really loud about football. “Let me know if I’m in your way, sweetheart,” they say. If only I had more time on my hands I would say something, so instead you get my elbow in your ribs.
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