dishwasher dilemna

rachel screwed up my life.

i write for this salon...
every month,i knock out a short play, some children's poems, sometimes a humorous reading....it was a lot of fun.
however, one salon night, not too long ago, i had a change of heart.
rachel, a writing teacher at the new school, suggested i submit some material to magazines - the new yorker, playboy....

why this???
why couldn't she have said:
oh i like your writing, you should do more.
or,
i had a similar experience when my father died/
or,
i also had very bad asthma from working in a kitchen and the only non medical relief came from foreplay/

etcetera.....

she put me on the spot. "this can't be for fun. you have to take it more seriously."

now i'm stressed. i freeze up.....

it makes me think about work.my real job. and the dishwasher dilemna.....

"oh shit.
could it get any worse?"
it was a holiday weekend. half the staff was away.
rusty, who works as a host and back up dishwasher, called me.
"my grand father died last night." he said
" i have to leave for the weekend."
so, on a busy friday night, i did some dishes, ran some food, worked as the host...
the next day, carmen , who is the manager and the other jack of all trades around here, called me as well.
"my grandmother died this morning." she said
" i have to leave tonight for a few days."

holy shit!! now i'm really fucked....

i need a dishwasher.....

"hey, it'll be ok.... chef, staff, don't worry everything will be ok....
i'll work the streets. i know how to do this. i know everybody."

am i the only person freaking out?

"why am i doing this, anyways?" i say to myself as i hurry out to second avenue.
"yeah, i know the streets. i know the supermarket cashiers, the laundromat ladies, the window guy at san loco, the bengali deli guy "david", and george the butcher at the east village meat market. who am i fooling? i might as well post an ad on craigslist...."
at met food, the supermarket, i asked the cashier, rosa...."i need a dishwasher.here is my card. if you know anyone, they should come at 4 oclock. thank you , rosa."
they know me. i always say hello, i say thank you....they will know someone....

next.at the laundromat.
i say "hello, if you know anyone, i need a dishwasher, to start at 4 o clock. just have him come over. "
"how young can he be?"christina asks me.
" how young?"
" can he be 16?"she inquires....
" yes, yes, 16 is ok, please send someone over...."
then i remember...... several years ago,i had asked her if she knew anyone who could babysit.
she sent her teenage daughter, anna, to babysit our daughter.
she wasn't bad. she hadn't done anything wrong.
she just didn't do ANYTHING. and when she left, she asked if her boyfriend could come over the next time.

"that's ok, i'll see whom she sends over anyways....maybe she'll surprise me.but i know i won't be thrilled with ANYONE she sends....."

now i'm on to better operations.
san loco, the taco shop on second avenue. the window guy knodded to me. hey he knows me, i get lunch there so many afternoons......yes, it's me. "i'm a good guy......please send someone over."he nods to me, i walk out. you wouldn't think so, but sometimes i'm a little shy...

at the bengali deli...sam's....i talked with david."jimmy, how much does it pay?" was all he asked. good question.....i hadn't thought of that.

george the polish butcher.....he wants to do it himself. good old george. he calls me "gaa-neck" that means jimmy in ukrainian....i remember over the years he had hinted to me, several times, that he could do extra work for me, on the side......but he is too old, over 60...
"no. george, a young guy"
-no, george- didn't send anyone over.

i turned to craigs list.
" there's always craigslist." i said.

our first, franchise dishwasher, mack, came from craigslist.
"it's a good way to edit people out without alienating anyone. it's anonymous....."


i typed in.'dishwasher wanted. east village restaurant/pub. work 3 days...."

within 5 minutes, i had an answer. robbie, from d.c....
he wrote well, had worked in a hip dc pizzeria called "comet ping pong pizza". i googled it. a pizza place, with ping pong tables, cheap chic decor....ok ,this fits the bill, even if he didn't really work there or they hated him....at least he can reference an interesting establishment.he was new to the city, lived in brooklyn, worked at an art handling company.great! my new mack!

i needed someone for 3 nights. only 3 nights.

i decided i would pay robbie at the end of the 3 nights. if he didn't like the job, he would take his first night's pay, and not come back the next. i couldn't risk that.....
around 10pm, when his first night's shift was almost over, i talked with robbie. "you'll get paid monday night, after you've worked the 3 nights."
i saw something in his eyes....he wasn't happy about that.....

he said:
"you said tonight would be a trial, for both of us. well, i don't like the job. i can't come back tomorrow."
"what?!? it's a 3 day job. someone's grandfather died...i need you..."
"i'm sorry . it was a trial for me as well as for you."
i walked away. "ok"i said as i threw up my hands
in helpless disgust.

i wasn't happy.
just then, wilson, an older gentleman-customer, walked into the bar.
i like wilson. until fairly recently, he had lived in short hills , new jersey, with an aging wife on one side of town, where he lived, and a not so young girlfriend on the other side of towm, where he spent a lot of his time.
one day, it all blew up on him. both sides of town hated him. he moved to manhattan, to an apartment on east 6th street....
some of the bar staff didn't like him. he had a way of provoking them. he liked to boss them around.....

wilson noticed i wasn't my cheery self.
"you're in a dilemna. GET OUT OF IT!"

"no. wilson. i'm not."
i was pissed off, so angry at this robbie the dishwasher fellow.....

i took mack aside.
"mack, the new guy is not coming back tomorrow. he's quitting. give him all the glasses now, extra dishes,..."
he looked confused.
so i spoke plainly."PILE IT UP ON HIM.'
he winked at me, and said, with a smile, "i already am."

ha ha

we'll teach this boy a lesson.

i gathered my things. it was time to go home. i spoke to the chef"call this number in the morning. this guy gabrielle, from the laundromat" will work tomorrow.
the chef nudged me. "it's all right. he's coming back"
"he is?"
he nodded.

i turned around, smiled at robbie, patted him on the back....

hee hee
he is!!

i had almost lost my temper on him. "get the fuck out of here"i had wanted to scream....where is his coat? i'll throw it at him,tell him to "get the fuck out of here...." and i won't pay him?

or i should pay him?

so i was in a dilemna.
wilson was right.

wilson, i was angry......now i'm not.....
but he was gone. he had ordered his one chimay beer, bossed the girls around, read my mind and egged me on. and then he left.
good old wilson!!

i still don't know what the chef had said to robbie, but he had convinced him to stay. that we were in a bind, that it would be good "karma"....
is that good karma???

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