How to Catch a Husband

Hey guys...

Um.

I guess I need some help.

You see, I'm guest posting on Jennie's blog and I really wanted to blow her readers away with something sassy and fun.  I got started on what I thought was a genius idea, but now that I've written it all out I'm worried it's too much and too weird. You know how it is with new people, you can't scare them away too quickly.  You gotta ease them in.  So, I am allowing you folks to read a draft of it before it hits Jennie's blog.  Let me know if I'm about to scare a lot of innocent, unsuspecting people.

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Well, hello there, folks.  The name is Bonnie.  I am guest posting on Jennie's blog because I have some VERY important advice for her.  Recently Jennie posted her 20 reasons why she is a blogging outcast on my blog.  One of the reasons Jennie said is because she isn't married.

Well isn't that a crying shame?!?  To be young and eligible and unmarried in Utah County... why that's not something you want to brag about.  If you get out of your ripe, teenage years without a ring on your finger and a blog to prove it, then you're in for a lot of scornful looks from the likes of Utah Mormons, I think we all know that.

Now, I have got some experience in this department because I about dang near turned into an old maid myself before I got that diamond safely secured on my finger.  I was pushing 25 years old when I said "I do"!  Imagine!  Don't worry about a thing, though, Jennie, I'm here to give you and everyone else out there who wants it some help in locking down a man.  Then you won't be a blogging outcast anymore, and you can spend the rest of your life thanking me for it.  Here we go!

HOW TO BECOME A BRIDE:  

BY THE LIFE OF BON

Step 1:  Sit outside on your balcony Juliet style to get his attention.  Also, make sure your hair is a weird color.  Heck, that's what I did!  I was just sitting on my balcony when old Hubs himself walked on by.  I'd never seen the dude before, but he yelled up to me that he was digging the pink in my hair and then I knew it was love.  All thanks to my balcony.  You can learn a lot from studying old Shakespeare, you know.

Step 2:  Interrogate him about his work ethic.  The first real conversation I had with Hubs revolved around work and nothing else.  I worked at Sizzler and he worked at The Olive Garden so I figured, "Hey!  Let's talk restaurants!"  I drilled him on how many tables he worked at a time, how fast the tables rotated, what the average bill was, how much he made in tips a night, etc, etc, ETC!  The questions were fierce and fast and I'm pretty sure Hubs was really turned on by that!  Come on, what boy wouldn't love being harassed about how much money he makes?

Step 3: Tell him you will hit him on the head with a hammer (or any other creative threat) if he doesn't spend time with you .  It's true, girls!  Threats work!  But make sure they're creative, so he'll remember you!  None of this, "I'll kill you stuff", you gotta make yourself stick out in his brain.  For our first "hang out" Hubs and I were supposed to play cards one Sunday night.  I hadn't seen him in church so I called him up 30 minutes before game time to see if we were still on.  He didn't answer.  In a moment of panic I told him that if he ditched me for this I would indeed, take it out on him hammer style.  And voila, He was at my door half an hour later.

Step 4:  Stick your face directly in front of his until he finally kisses you.  Good old Hubs was a little nervous about that first kiss, so I made it easy on him!  I sat next to him on the couch and literally stuck my face right in front of his for about an hour until he finally planted one on me.  I don't know about you, but I personally think guys find it quite refreshing when a girl just puts her face right in front of his and waits patiently.  Who wouldn't love that?!?

Step 5:  Three weeks after you start dating, make him go to your crazy hometown and have every hick there ask him when you two are getting married.  Now I didn't plan this, but really, it couldn't have worked out better!  I took him home to meet my mom, but little did I know we would run into a lot of other friends: old school teachers, church buddies, neighbors, ETC.  And everyone wanted to know one little thing, "When are you two getting married?!?"  I pretended to act embarrassed, but really, I LOVED it.  I got those folk to place the idea in his head, and months later that boy was down on one knee BEGGING me to marry him!

Now, kids, I know these tactics might seem a bit unconventional, but TRUST ME!  They work!  If you want yourself a hubby before your ovaries get rusty, you best put these steps to the test.


And don't forget to invite me to speak at your wedding!

When Sizzler rejects you. Twice.

Well, I'll tell you this much, it's a very humbling day when you call a ghetto steak restaurant for a job and they tell you no.  It's even more humbling when you had already worked at that ghetto steak restaurant for four years.  And even MORE humbling when you are a college grad and certified teacher and have no business working at a place like Sizz and are completely overqualified and they still say no.

But that's what happened.

Last year, after completing my first year of teaching, I figured I could use an extra couple hundred bucks a week.  Pick up a shift here and there at old Sizz and I'd be good as gold.  I'd worked there on and off throughout college, surely they'd be chomping at the bit to have me back.

Nope.  They said they were full.  Didn't need no more servers.

I shrugged it off.  Maintained my confidence.  Stood strong and proud and instead got a gig at the Old Spaghetti Factory which I would later grow to hate with all my heart, but that's another story for another day, isn't it?

Now, one year later, my summer is two weeks away and I've started wondering what I'm going to do with all that time off.  Naturally, I called up old Sizzler.  I mean they might have been totally full last year, but they'd make some arrangements to let me work there again temporarily.  Surely they'd be chomping at the bit to have me back this time around, right?
 
Nope.  They said they were full.  Didn't need no more servers.

And that's what is feels like to get rejected from a ghetto steak restaurant.  Twice.
Now you know.

Got any ideas for a summer gig for me?

Back to the Sizz

Friday night was spent at my favorite white trash ghetto steak restaurant.

Sizzler.

Say what you want about the Sizz, knock on it all you feel like (Hubs, I'm talking to you!), but that place is like heaven to me and I'll never change my mind, so don't even try to convince me otherwise!

My friend, Akasha, is visiting from out of town, and because we both worked at Sizzler many moons ago, we decided it was mandatory that we make a Sizz visit while she was here. We were treated like kings by old friends, ate half our food for free, and enjoyed every second of chowing down on that grisly, over cooked steak.

We even had some fantastic dinner entertainment.  We were priviliged to watch this going on throughout the entirety of our meal.

That, my friends, is a woman giving her boyfriend/husband/lover a neck and back massage.  Right smack in the middle of dinner.  Right smack in the middle of Sizzler. 

I'll tell you something about Sizz.  It never ceases to surprise you. 

What surprised me most, however, about our return to Sizzler was not the erotic dinner rub down.  No, what really shocked me was how much I... well... missed...Sizzler.

And then I got nostalgic.  Like... super nostalgic.  I remembered all the nights at Sizzler, the crazy games we'd play in the back, the countless tables that I served, the friends I made, the late hours, the busy weekends, the endless shifts.  And I wanted it back.  I wanted to return to what once was.  For one crazy minute, I missed that going-to-school-and-working-nights-at-a-restaurant stage of my life.  I missed it so much. (You can read more about my glamorous life working at Sizzler here and here.)

Here's the truth.  I have trouble leaving stages in my life.  It's hard for me to move on.  I attach myself too much to people, to places, to experiences.  When I first got to college I cried and cried because I wasn't ready to leave Price yet.  I had dreamt of geting out of that little town for years, and now that I was finally gone, I wanted that stage back.  When I came home from my mission, I yearned for my investigators, my areas, my time in Argentina.  I couldn't adjust to normal life, I wanted to go back to my mission stage.  Maybe that's why I took a little longer to get married than most... I just wanted to hold on to the single stage of life that I was in. 

AND...maybe, just maybe, it explains why I'm not chomping at the bit to have a baby just yet.  I like the stage of life I'm in with Hubs right now.  The married-with-no-children-do-whatever-we-want stage.

I realized, while sitting there admist deep fried shrimp and strawberry lemonade, that all stages must come to an end.  My single-student-Sizzler stage ended two years ago, and even though I miss it, it's good that it's over.  And now I have entered a new stage.  A married-working-stable stage.

I made a goal to myself on Friday night, while eating all you can eat soft serve ice cream and watching that strange man get a massage.  To enjoy each stage of life, and to love the stage that I am in.  No yearning for previous stages, no longing for upcoming stages, just loving where I'm at.  Because everything passes too quickly and things that happened to me five years ago seem like just yesterday, and before I know it all my children will be grown.  I'm 25, but I feel like I'm still 13, and tomorrow I'll be 50.  Everything changes so fast, and before you even realize what has happened, a whole section of your life is over.

And it really is true what they say, about one door closing and another one opening.  With every exiting stage of my life comes a new stage, prancing on, ready to be explored and discovered and enjoyed.  And there is beauty in every stage in life.  There is really no reason to mourn because there is always new beauty in life, something more to enjoy, something more to learn from, something more to love.

And that's what I discovered on Friday night while making a return to a ghetto steak house where I spent several years waiting tables and rolling silverware.

Pretty good revelation for a night at the Sizz, wouldn't you say?

So long Sizzler

For the past four and a half years I have worked at Sizzler. Pathetic, I know, to spend that much time at a restaurant. In my defense I did take a religious sabbatical of sorts... and a four month vacation/ "semester" to Hawaii... but still, I have put in way too many hours at the Sizzler in Provo. And now, with a full time teaching job career under way I guess it's time I say goodbye officially and forever to my favorite little ghetto white trash restaurant.

Here are some favorite memories:

- One Saturday afternoon I didn't want to work my shift because all of my girlfriends were having fun without me and I wanted to join in. I told my manager that I wasn't feeling well and could I go home? He replied, "Yah, you look like s***. You better go home." I was feeling fine.

- Once I was taking a very large woman to a table when she insisted on sitting in a booth. I hadn't given her the booth option because...well... she was huge. "Uh... the tables are much more convenient for getting up and down" I tried to convince her. "No! I want a booth! They're more comfortable." So I took her to a booth. And watched awkwardly and she tried to shove herself and her mammoth bosoms into the tight space between the bench and the seat. Finally, several unsuccessful mintues later she gave in, "I guess I'll have a table."

- A lady ran up to me one night in a panic telling me she needed a plastic bag because her sick friend in a motorized wheelchair was going to puke any minute. The friend was ridiculously overweight. Rolls were hanging over her. Her face was lost in the enormity of her cheeks and neck. There were hairs on her chin. I got the bag, watched as the lady wheeled on over to a different part of my section, puked, and then brought me back the vomit filled bag to put in the garbage. When I came back out of the server station, she was back at the salad bar loading up on food. Wait... weren't you not feeling well? Didn't you just puke up all your food...?

- One lady was so rude to me the whole night, throwing out demeaning comments and acting like I was an idiot. She went up to the front to ask for her waitress and when the manager asked what the waitress's name was she replied, "I don't know! Piece of sh**!" The manager said, "No... really... what was her name?" "Brooke or something like that. She has a pink streak!" They figured out it was me that was the server, so I went out to the table to try to help her out. She chewed me out for five minutes, told me how to do my job, put me in my place (given at this point I probably deserved it because I was completely ignoring them because they were so rude). At the end of the night I brought her a comment card that we are required to give all of our tables. Instead of putting my name, Bonnie, I put "Brooke." Yah, I'm a smart A. She called and complained that night. The next morning I had a nice long lecture. Almost lost my job over that one.

- An hour into one of my shifts I realized I wasn't wearing any underwear. I was supposed to work a double that day- 11 am to 9 pm. We weren't busy yet so I asked my manager if I could go home to put some underwear on and come back. He told me to just go home. Score.

- The Mexican cook surprise kissed me outside the side door on the cheek. He asked me to go to Mexico with him. When I asked him what we would do for work, he replied, "Work in a hotel in Cancun." Wow. You are Romantic, Juan! Nothing sounds more heavenly than running away to Mexico with you and working in a hotel! Later I found out he was married with kids. Figures.

- Some couple from California was in Provo for a Nuskin conference. They came in every day while they were in town and for some reason fell madly in love with me. They tried to set me up with their son. They tried to recruit me for NuSkin. She tried to convince me to work at Sizzler in Cali. She took pictures of me and then sent them to me months later postmarked from Southern California. It was weird.

- Mothers Day everyone had to work so to make up for it, the managers bought a bunch of food for everyone and put it in the break room. When my shift was over, me and my BFF who worked with me filled sacks with the mothers Day treats and booked it out of the restaurant. Some other server saw us and ratted us out. The managers called and we had to return hours later with all of the stolen goods and apologize. Almost lost my job over that one.

- Dated a boy from work. I wouldn't suggest it, unless you're good at getting boys to break up with you twice, feel bad, and do all your work for you... in which case you might want to look into it.

- I was taking three people to a table, an old lady and a young couple. I showed them their spot and said, "Is this okay?" Everyone looked confused. The old lady began to sit down. The couple looked at her. Then at me. Back at her. Back to me. "Uh... she's not with us..." The old lady, looked around, also confused, and then wandered off. Minutes later another server in the station was staying, "My table can't find their grandma! They have no idea where she went..." HA!

- My last shift working before my mission, the stupid closing server wouldn't check me off. He kept making me get on my hands and knees to pick up my crumbs. He told me I was probably going to half a** my mission just like I half a**ed my work at Sizzler. I walked out without doing any more of my closing work or checking out with a manager. I would have lost my job over that one if I wasn't already quitting. (I didn't exactly think I would have to come crawling back to them for a job 18 months later...)

- Best tip: $22 from an old couple who ordered a $10 meal... It's not that impressive, I know. I don't know why I never racked in those $50-$100 tips that other servers made.

- Worst tip: (Aside from the countless no tippers?) $1 from seven huge Navajo men who all had steak and all you can eat shrimp and kept me running all night. After that I refused to take another table of Navajos. You can call me racist. I call myself smart.

- Total hours spent at Sizzler: 2,500- 2,700.

- Total money in my apron at the end of three years: $40,500. Crazy to think of 40 Gs in one and five dollar bills left out on tables, huh?

So, thanks Sizzler for putting me through school, taking me to Hawaii to study, help paying for my mission, paying my rent, buying my clothes, and thank you now, for being a part of my past... and not part of my future.

Bad break-up?

In my blogging experience, I have steered clear of writing anything personal or anything of real significance...my posts are usually a healthy mix of random and completely useless information about myself. Because of my dedication to avoid getting too personal, I have completely avoided ever ever EVER writing about my dating life.

But... just this one time I couldn't resist. The story merits a blog post.

I started going out with this boy from the restaurant where I work. His name is S. Everybody said it was a bad idea to date someone from work. Post-break-up-work-life would certainly be hell. I ignored all warnings and went for it anyway. But the thing is I never really could make up my mind about how much I liked him, and so it was always stop and go, stop and go. Plus, I was in and out of town, graduating (oh yah... forgot to mention huge milestone in my life... I GRADUATED FROM COLLEGE in April. WOOT!), etc, etc. Also there were some other deadbeats who I have been dating who kept trying to make their way in to my life and were making me really confused about my feelings for S. Finally, though, I decided that I do indeed like S and that I was going to give the relationship an honest go. You know... put effort into it, act cute when I see him, be nice to him, the things you are supposed to do when you are dating someone. The next time I saw S, he said he thought it would be a good idea to stop dating. Uh.... okay? His reasons for breakup were #1: I don't like kids very much and that bothers him because he wants to marry a girl who freaking adores every kid who has walked the planet and #2: I am not obedient enough. (Which for the record, I am an "obedient" person, just in a different way than S, who is very down-the-line-perfect-mormon-boy).

Now here's the good part. I thought the restaurant would certainly be a disaster now that S+Bonnie = Love is no longer a true equation. False. Work is so much better than it ever has been. I think he feels guilty about breaking my heart because he has been beyond nice to me. First shift working with S post-breakup: All night long he ran all my food to my tables. When I came back with a tray full of dirty plates and set it hastily on the counter, I caught him sneakily taking it back to the dishroom and unloading it for me. One particularly crappy night he noticed I was in a bad mood and gave me a package of nibs licorice. Then, when he had a wrongly cooked premium steak at one of his tables he told no one but me and we went back to the breakroom and polished that sucker off just the two of us. When I showed up late for work he covered for me. He does my sidework if I am behind. He always gives me the best section in the restaurant.

As you can see, this has really been working out for me. My new work strategy: date every boy at the restaurant, make him break up with me, make him feel bad for breaking up with me, and live the most posh work lifestyle ever. They do everything. I do nothing. I win.

Tell them what they want to hear

I've become pretty good at telling people exactly what they want to hear. Take M for example. He is my general manager at the restaurant. I used to hate his guts. Now I just tell him exactly what he wants to hear and we get along swimmingly.

Example: Last night a corny couple came into the restaurant. I was supposed to be off the floor- the night was almost over. Well, these two bimbos wandered over into my section and so I had to serve them. The lady was nice as all get out. She kept smiling and telling me how beautiful I was. Obviously, I immediately liked her- she was telling me what I wanted to hear. So I told her what she wanted to hear... how great it is to have them in the restuarant, how sweet they are, how I wish they would come back soon.

Next, the corny couple went on and on about how this resturant is so much better than other restuarants they have been to of the same chain. Whatever, they are all the same, but if these peeps want to think one resturant is better than the exact same restaurant in a different city, don't argue with them. Just let them think what they want. Anyway, I gave the credit of our "off the hook restaurant" to M. "He drives a tight ship," I confided in them, as if it were some great secret (I was practically speaking in a whisper). "He doesn't take any slack from anyone. If the shrimp are in the oil 20 seconds too long or 20 seconds too little, he throws all the shrimp away and the cook gets the ax. He demands perfection." And you know... I went on. Shooting the bull. Talking about how great M is even though I secretly kind of hate him. He's a moron, after all. I told him once, but he didn't like that very much. All morons hate it when you call them morons.

Well, what do you know, M happened to be walking by at that exact time and I called him over, "M! This couple is dying to meet you! They want to know why this restaurant is the best they've ever been to. I told them it's thanks to you. You keep us all in line." M hates me, but I think in that instant he almost loved me. He was beaming from here to the moon. And so he started talking to the corny couple. And I escaped so I could go do my sidework and get the heck home.

Results of my telling people what they want to hear instead of the truth: the couple left a healthy tip. When I tipped out to M that night he thanked me for being a great server and said he looked forward to seeing me tomorrow night. Right. Apparently you just tell him what he wants to hear- you know- "M drives a tight ship!" and life gets a whole lot easier.

The Man Reconsidered

I might be wrong about the man. I thought Kim was the man. Kim is the overweight forty year old woman who has worked at the restuarant for nine years. She has been helping me with any questions I have. All day today Kim kept telling me what to do and how to do it and wouldn't shut up about how it had to be done this certain way. I was becoming so frustrating and in my head was planning all sorts of ways to stick it to her. "Want me to show you a trick how to put all the lids on the kids' jellos really fast?" Kim asked me. And then I realized. Kim is not the man. She is not even close to the man- she just works for him. She has been slaving away for the man her entire life and she doesn't even know it. I am jealous of Kim because she is so content working at the same restaurant for nine years and she does everything exactly how it is supposed to be and never questions. She doesn't even know the man exists, and even if she did, she wouldn't care. She likes the man. She is not an over-analyzer and she simply doesn't care if someone tells her to wash the lemons twice. She doesn't doubt, she just does what she is told. I wonder if I wouldn't be so much happier in life if, like Kim, I just accepted the man and stopped spending my life trying to stick it to him. I have become an incredible ham in the restaurant. I say the cheesiest, lamest things to people. What's worse, I use the same lines over and over. Any time a cute old couple orders the exact same thing I say with a big smile, "Well you are just two peas in a pod, aren't you!" and they laugh and think it's nice and tell me that they've been married for two hundred years. I can't help using the same line over and over again because I always get such a reaction from it. And I always mean it when I say the whole peas in a pod thing- it is cute how old people just sort of mold into one another and always order the same thing. But in any case, I just wish I could stop saying that dumb cheesy line and think of a new one.

Stick it to the man

I have one main purpose in life. It is to stick it to the man. I hate the man. He is ruining everything. The man has given me $110 worth of parking tickets this week. I don't understand why he has such retarded parking laws, so to stick it to him, I am not going to pay the tickets. I don't know what will happen if I don't pay them, but I figure worst case scenario is I will get sent to jail for a couple nights. A couple days in jail never hurt nobody. The man is everywhere. I noticed him at work today. He told me that I have to wash the lemons, even if they have already been washed, and that I have to leave the money on top of the cash register until the transaction is complete. If I understood the man's rules maybe I wouldn't hate him so bad. The problem is that the man is constantly telling me what to do, how to do it, but never why I am doing it. When the man is not looking I don't wash the lemons and I put the money in my cash register immediately. I also sneak sips of diet pepsi from him. My hope is that if I stick it to the man enough times I will eventually be able to get him off my back for good.