j'essaie peut-etre à péter plus haut que mon cul (when all else fails...)
Let's see. Since I moved back to St. Joe and dragged my husband here, I have:
met with Winston Bennett who owns Bad Art and didn't like him, and it was mutual, so we got nowhere.
talked to Vincent Daunay who runs Bad Art, and got passed over when he was hiring.
met Chris Frangiadis, the guy I alienated years ago over sweetbreads, who opened Piatto 614 and Coppa.
met with Geneo DeSpain the dick at the decrepit box on Felix, and who Kevin chided on the sidewalk, and got nowhere.
applied to Aramark at MWSU twice and got turned down flat.
applied to Sodex(h)o at Boehringer-Ingelheim and made it to the phone screen before being eliminated.
applied to OPAA! Foods when they posted local jobs, including Robin's job, and am not qualified nor interested.
looked at catering trailers, and been too afraid to even ask about borrowing money for one.
looked at the Mitchell Park building, but got nowhere with the city re: restaurant zoning.
volunteered to serve food at Better Block and got nowhere with the city about street cooking.
written to the owner of the Shakespeare Chateau and gotten no reply.
met with the owner of Whiskey Mansion and gotten nothing concrete.
talked to locavores and food activists and not put together a co-op.
worked successfully as a one-man catering company within the school district, but got funding cut and demoted.
worked for poverty wages as a lunch lady in a school.
cooked poorly at a bad but successful local pub and got replaced when I got full-time school district work.
been told by several managers that I only have my job because I am Rick's cousin.
been left twisting in the wind, as far as I can tell, by Rick himself.
lowered our gross income by a third and our living standard by a lot.
gotten better health care from the free clinic than the Blue Cross doctor.
visited my very much living Aunt Bonnie about as often as my parents' graves (two? three? times in a year and a half).
struggled to keep up with my share of work at home.
altered my diet and exercised, and lost about 70 pounds in about 9 months.
gotten humbled, and humbled, and humbled, and humiliated, and humbled some more, and then ignored.
grown in love and intimacy with my husband, and dislike of and disappointment in myself.
met a couple of extraordinary people, who will make dramatic, tumultuous, rich impact on my life.
shot my mouth off in the paper and been recognized there, and outed, by my cousin to the superintendent of schools.
supported Kevin's choice to go back to college, and struggled to share resources that are scarcer.
reconnected with beloved family and old friends, though largely (ironically) through facebook.
been consistently depressed, insomniac, and afraid.
volunteered for Second Harvest, Better Block, and the Wyeth-Tootle Mansion, though not very effectively.
learned that my name is not an asset in this town, if it ever was.
defended this town to its detractors, as it sucks the life out of me and stifles everything here that is beautiful.
been told, when applying as a chef, that I am a cook, and when applying as a cook, that I am a chef.
had my eyes endlessly fascinated by the antique beauty of this place, and my heart broken by its ugliness.
striven for calm in the face of a shrieking, shrill internal klaxon of despair and panic.
Something has got to give. I can't do this much longer. Really. I mean it. (*stamp my widdle foot*)
met with Winston Bennett who owns Bad Art and didn't like him, and it was mutual, so we got nowhere.
talked to Vincent Daunay who runs Bad Art, and got passed over when he was hiring.
met Chris Frangiadis, the guy I alienated years ago over sweetbreads, who opened Piatto 614 and Coppa.
met with Geneo DeSpain the dick at the decrepit box on Felix, and who Kevin chided on the sidewalk, and got nowhere.
applied to Aramark at MWSU twice and got turned down flat.
applied to Sodex(h)o at Boehringer-Ingelheim and made it to the phone screen before being eliminated.
applied to OPAA! Foods when they posted local jobs, including Robin's job, and am not qualified nor interested.
looked at catering trailers, and been too afraid to even ask about borrowing money for one.
looked at the Mitchell Park building, but got nowhere with the city re: restaurant zoning.
volunteered to serve food at Better Block and got nowhere with the city about street cooking.
written to the owner of the Shakespeare Chateau and gotten no reply.
met with the owner of Whiskey Mansion and gotten nothing concrete.
talked to locavores and food activists and not put together a co-op.
worked successfully as a one-man catering company within the school district, but got funding cut and demoted.
worked for poverty wages as a lunch lady in a school.
cooked poorly at a bad but successful local pub and got replaced when I got full-time school district work.
been told by several managers that I only have my job because I am Rick's cousin.
been left twisting in the wind, as far as I can tell, by Rick himself.
lowered our gross income by a third and our living standard by a lot.
gotten better health care from the free clinic than the Blue Cross doctor.
visited my very much living Aunt Bonnie about as often as my parents' graves (two? three? times in a year and a half).
struggled to keep up with my share of work at home.
altered my diet and exercised, and lost about 70 pounds in about 9 months.
gotten humbled, and humbled, and humbled, and humiliated, and humbled some more, and then ignored.
grown in love and intimacy with my husband, and dislike of and disappointment in myself.
met a couple of extraordinary people, who will make dramatic, tumultuous, rich impact on my life.
shot my mouth off in the paper and been recognized there, and outed, by my cousin to the superintendent of schools.
supported Kevin's choice to go back to college, and struggled to share resources that are scarcer.
reconnected with beloved family and old friends, though largely (ironically) through facebook.
been consistently depressed, insomniac, and afraid.
volunteered for Second Harvest, Better Block, and the Wyeth-Tootle Mansion, though not very effectively.
learned that my name is not an asset in this town, if it ever was.
defended this town to its detractors, as it sucks the life out of me and stifles everything here that is beautiful.
been told, when applying as a chef, that I am a cook, and when applying as a cook, that I am a chef.
had my eyes endlessly fascinated by the antique beauty of this place, and my heart broken by its ugliness.
striven for calm in the face of a shrieking, shrill internal klaxon of despair and panic.
Something has got to give. I can't do this much longer. Really. I mean it. (*stamp my widdle foot*)