***
My shifts were from 5:30 p.m. to 10:30 p.m. I would finish around the same time as many of the other staff so I would sit on the patio with them. We would drink, flirt, and tell stories. I was not much of a drinker, but I did not want to miss out on this great networking opportunity. I would just listen mostly and see what types of things I could learn from them.
One guy designed websites, another was a photographer, two guys were in med school, there was a writer, a personal trainer, and then there was me. I was not really sure what my thing was. I guess I was just a dude. I realized I didn’t really have much going for me. The passion was there, but it was being wasted on doing these odd jobs I had.
“So Trevor, how come you’re not a server yet?” Kevin asked me.
“I don’t know. I talked to Kim and she said to give it time.”
“How much time does she expect you to wait? How long have you been here?”
“It’s been about two months.”
“Do you want to know why you’re not a server yet?” Tyler interrupted. He paused to take a drag of his cigarette.
“Enlighten me,” I said.
“It’s because you’re a good busser.” He paused again to allow his big philosophical revelation to sink in. “If they promote you, then they will lose their all-star busser. Think about it, man.”
I thought about it for a moment and he was right. How am I going to make the transition from busser to server? Do I stop working hard? Do I threaten to quit? I gave it more thought when I got home and decided what I was going to do.
The next day was a Saturday. I was scheduled for the lunch rush from 12:00 p.m. to 1:00 p.m., then again for the dinner rush from 5:30 p.m. to 10:30 p.m.
I worked the lunch rush part of my shift then went in the back to wash up. On one of the back tables was a food and beverage manual. I looked around to make sure no one was watching me and then I tossed my apron over it. I looked around again then picked it up with my apron wrapped around it.
On my way home, I passed by Mike’s Athletics to check in with my other co-workers.
“Yo, what’s up, Trevor?” Jay said.
“Nothing much, I’m just getting off work. How’s it going with you?”
“It’s going well I suppose.”
“That’s good.”
“So I talked to the owner, Mike, and he wants to renovate the store. We will have to close down for a while.”
“Really, for how long?”
“Just for a couple of weeks. He wants us to start packing things up in boxes as soon as possible. Are you available tomorrow?”
“I can be. I work lunch and dinner at the restaurant, but I can help you in between those times.”
“Okay, great. How about you come in tomorrow at 8:30 a.m.? You can leave to go to your other job, but then come back here after.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll be here all day. I’ve scheduled a few other people to work as well. Mike and his wife will be coming down to help, and the new assistant manager will be here all day too.”
“Okay, no problem, I’ll be here.”
The following morning I showed up bright and early. I met the new assistant manager, Damian. He seemed really friendly.
“So here’s the plan, Trevor,” Jay said. “All this stuff has to go, so I just need you to take all the stuff off the racks and put it into boxes. Leave the hangers on, and make sure you label all the boxes. If you need anything or have any questions just let me know.”
“What are we going to do with all the shoes in the back?”
“They’re staying here. We’ll cover them with large plastic sheets so they won’t get dusty.”
“But if they’re here, the construction workers might steal them.”
“One of us is going to be here at all times.”
“Oh, okay.”
“Yeah, we’ll all take turns. So starting Monday, I need you to be in at 8:30 a.m. to let the construction crew in.”
“No problem. What about the rest of the week?”
“I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know.”
C H A P T E R
T W E N T Y - N I N E
Sitting around in the back room didn’t sound like much fun to me, but it was easy money. I brought the food and beverage manual from Ray’s and studied the ingredients for hours. Jay would call from time to time on the store phone just to check in on me. He was probably more concerned about the merchandise and wanted to make sure I hadn’t left.
“How is everything?” Jay asked.
“So far so good, I suppose. They turned off the heat so it’s pretty cold back here, and there’s limited lighting, but otherwise I can manage.”
“Okay well, just stay until closing. I think the workers will be done by around 11:00 p.m.”
“Okay, and what about tomorrow?”
“I need you to do the same thing tomorrow. Just show up at 8:30 and I’ll relieve you around 4:00 p.m.”
“Okay, no problem.”
The six by six square foot back office was cold, dark, and did not have good ventilation. I sat at a small desk surrounded by boxes stacked from floor to ceiling. The large plastic sheets set up to protect the shoes from getting dusty did their job; they were covered with white dust from the gyprock. However, I would get it all over my clothes anytime I brushed up against it, which would happen pretty much anytime I moved. Twelve hours went by and I could not imagine doing another day like this. It was beyond unbearable.
The following day was more of the same. I was counting down the minutes until Jay would come in at 4:00 to relieve me. I felt like I was going crazy sitting back there all alone in the dark.
The Art of the Hustle Page 34
