The Help

The diversity of our guests is amazing. Old white southerners...um...a few old white Californians and Chicagoans, New England...well, old white people. And today it occurred to me how not a few of them look at us: the help. This old woman asked me in all condescending sincerity, where do you go when the season ends? It wasn't, what are your plans or what's next in life for you? But where do you all go? You're out of work until April! This got me thinking.

There's a girl here who dresses like the indie punk kids from high school who has a plan to go out with a bang when she quits. Run in the restaurant and yell at all the dead eyed armchair adventure seekers and tell them what whores they are. This I disagree with.

I had a customer today who wanted to know about my graduation from college, my plans, where I've been, where I'm going. I felt like I was bringing tears to his eyes as I told him all about my dreams and memories. He kept saying over and over, "Oh, man...yeah, I wish you the best in all you do, I really do." I told him my dad spent his early twenties traveling around the country and spent a good deal of my teenage years silently encouraging me to do the same. This customer told me my dad was spot on and that I'm kicking off life in a way that will open an entire future of breadth and possibilities. It's not about working for something so much as working in order to be capable of anything. I asked him how his trip was going and he waved his hand saying "we're having a wonderful time." It was as if he was recognizing and dismissing the whole circumstances of his trip to Alaska (corporate package deal) and accepting that the truth of the matter was he and his wife were enjoying each others company.

Up here we have some groovy cats like that - people so excited to be moving around and looking at breathtaking scenery, people who understand that their waiters and busboys and bell staff and house cleaners are all people making money, experiencing a wholly new environment, then planning to move forward with their lives. Up here we also have the kind of people my female friend wants to scream at - those who seem terribly put off by the question 'how was your day?' and grunt and look at the floor when you bid them 'have a wonderful rest of your day/trip/life.'

My attitude towards this experience has changed pretty dramatically lately. A server here was an airborn Army soldier (parachuters) until he caught shrapnel to the head. My roommate graduated U Chicago with a degree in ancient religions of the Near East (Mesopotamia). There are people fleeing relationships, moving with the current of seasonal work, camping and fishing during every break in their schedule, broadening their horizons, and working for beer money. I'm not sure if any of us are happy about working for the corporation and there is certainly a hell of a lot of complaining going round on an hourly basis, but all in all, there is something as strange as the light at 2 in the morning that brings us all together, and that is starting to sink in for me.

I'm making fair cash here, between 13 and 17$ per hour once all is added up and then subtracted. It's not great, but I can't spend it (actually, if I drank I could spend all of it very quickly like everyone else), and my side projects are all coming along. I finished Murakami and loved it. Now I'm focusing more on Finnegans Wake and editing a short story I wrote a few years ago. I'm past 3/4 through annotating FW, and I've finally found the structure to ground the story that it's lacked all along. I worked a few hours yesterday and if I don't pass out first, I'll work some more today.

All my love
Theo