Baby, Come Back

Goodness, but time flies. Just seven more days till the 7-month mark.

My first quarter at UC, I was anxious to get to work after every day, mostly because I was, quite simply, equally anxious to get away from UC. We had our good and bad days, of course, but work was the anchor – after MCI, of course.

I won’t say that I’m any less anxious to get to work now, but somewhere in the past couple of weeks, I did finally manage to cross a line… into feeling like I belong at UC. Not as completely as at MCI – MCI’s irreplaceable – and I suppose not at UC as a whole. But the UC Choruses are becoming to me what I think will be very much like the Honors group at CState, and my culinology batch-mates are like my Receiving people.

Speaking of Receiving, Receiving’s term break lunches are still the absolute best. Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday of last week found me at MCI for lunch [and sidebars with Steve {and Matt}]: soft tacos on Tuesday, pizza on Wednesday, braised pork chops on Thursday. Monday of this week was for breakfast with Michelle, and Tuesday found me at MCI again in between an early end-of-class and a late lunch with Martha.

Stevo said he’d already had too many sidebars for a morning (what a surprise), but he encouraged a walk to the Honors room enthusiastically enough after I told him about the one time I managed to get Brad to go there.

TANGENT! Go to urbandictionary.com and search “sidebar.” WIN.

So back to the story: Martha and Fran and I were in the Honors room, and we spotted Brad in his uniform taking a sidebar near the flagpole circle. We had a little fun texting him things like, “WE SEE YOU,” and commenting on things, like Bradley dropping his water bottle. He took forever to figure out where we were, and we had our hands out the window waving to him and whatnot. And that was the one day that Bradley came to the Honors room.

ANYway. It occurred to me while I was watching the guys on the line two days ago (that would be day 103) that there is a difference between someone who is easy to like and someone of whom it is difficult to not be fond. Eventually. This reflection was prompted by the thought that here was found the people to whom I exposed myself most readily for ridicule. And please note that this was thought fondly, not bitterly or morosely or angrily; it only suggests that there would be reason for ridicule (in certain cases, it would depend entirely on how your mind works), and does not take into account individual choices to pursue the matter either verbally or nonverbally. Or not at all. But what prompted that was Jared’s, “Very well,” imitation of Chief, and my reply (which was something to the effect that he needed to make his voice deeper) which came off entirely the wrong way and left Rob and Jared rather amused. I was somewhat amused and somewhat disgusted, though the latter was not in a furious way so much as an exasperated one.

Chef LaSorella was in for dinner a couple weeks back, as was Chef Coltrane on a particularly busy day 99 on which we actually merited fist-bumps from Jared. Fist-bumps from Jared are always worth noting.

Speaking of MCI chefs, Rob says I’m mean. Chef Fieler told me to say hi to Richard when I saw him at MCI last week, and I didn’t tell him that Ricky Bobby’s name is not Richard. And speaking of being mean and having previously mentioned Jared, I’m not supposed to be blogging about how nice he actually is most of the time, because I’m apparently ruining his reputation for being mean. Also along this train of thought, I’m not supposed to blog about how Jason’s the nicest person at work next to Sami, because I’d be ruining his reputation as well as Jared’s.

And now that we’re on the subject of Sami, truly and honestly, I don’t know what I would do without Sami, and I cannot remember how I ever got along without her. If we exasperate the guys when they catch us dancing at each other from opposite ends of the kitchen, I cannot say that I am sorry. As this only happens when things are at a temporary standstill and the guys are all standing against one side of the line, thus providing a clear view of each other through the window, the guys occasionally deliberately situate themselves so that they are obstructing said view. If this is not indicative of exasperation, I’m not sure what it is…

I have come to the unalterable conclusion that Jason is the best person to be working middle with, after having done so for the first time a couple weeks back. Nothing fazes him. “How do you do it?” “What?” “Like, nothing fazes you.” “You want to hear the story of my life?” “… Yes…” “Oh. It’s too long, Ais; we don’t have time.”

And I am out of time for blogging, so.

The title of this blog post is Jason’s fault; he has that song stuck in my head. Otherwise, it has absolutely no relation to anything I’ve previously mentioned.

On that note, peace out.

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One comment

  1. […] to the patterns of our communication. Now, since I can handle breads, I’ve reverted to my preference for tag-teaming with Jason, as I once preferred working middle with him over anyone else at Daveed’s. The old […]

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