German engineering what now?

Two posts in a row that portray Germans in a less than favorable light, what is going on? It's like in the book of Laura, Germans are trying to compete with the English for tops on my list of least favorite people. The problem is always them, never me. It's not me...it's you.

Let's talk cars. I bought my first car in early 2002, during spring semester of my sophomore year. It was a  red 1994 two door Grand Am. The mileage was low. I had to put a bit of money into it when I first bought it, but after that it gave me no trouble. It was not my dream car, but I loved it anyway, and it was mine. The following year, in early 2003, I happened to be driving by a used car dealership in Lasalle-Peru, when I saw what for 5 years had been my dream car-a new VW Beetle. I went home and immediately told me dad. He and I looked it up online. It was a 1998. The mileage was a bit higher than my Grand Am. The reviews of the '98 Beetles were less than stellar. I'd have to add another year onto my car loan, and my payments would be about $40 higher. But I didn't care. I wanted that car. A week or two later, I was driving my new (to me) Beetle home from the dealership, and the check engine light came on. Womp womp. Omen 1. For the next 6 weeks, my Beetle was in and out (but mostly in) of the shop for repairs. The final straw was when Aaron and I were driving home from a trip to the grocery store for some last minute Easter dinner supplies, and the whole way home we were smelling smoke, very strongly. My dad and grandpa were outside when we arrived back home. They came rushing over to us and we realized thick black smoke was pouring from the tires. The brakes were stuck down, or some such car thing like that. I don't really know. I don't understand cars. So the next day my dad drove the Beetle back to the used car dealership, while I returned to ISU, sans my Beetle, once again. The owner of this dealership is a stand up guy, who is trying his best to give used car dealers a better name. He knew we'd been having nonstop trouble with this car, so when my dad told him about the latest problem with it, his words were "We've gotta get you out of this car." Unfortunately, he'd already sold my old Grand Am. He did have a newer Grand Am, and he offered us an even swap. He'd take the Beetle back, and I'd take this 1999 Grand Am. I had no choice but to accept. And I was happy to have that offer. He didn't have to do anything. But again, stand up guy. I drove that car for the next couple years more or less problem free (until a blown gasket caused a coolant leak which cracked the engine block, or something like that...again, cars...I don't get them, I don't even know if I used those car terms correctly or not). It was a nice change from my 6 problem ridden weeks with the Beetle. I no longer considered Beetles my dream car.  This was a German flub. Clearly the reviews about the 1998 Beetles being lemons were spot on.

9 years and a few cars later, some family friends were selling their VW Beetle convertible. At the time I had a Jeep Liberty, which I liked mostly. That like turned to love when it was snowy outside. However, its MPG was about 12, if the wind was blowing in the right direction.  The scariest winter weather related driving mishap I've ever had was in a Tahoe. That car was a tank. I was driving down the interstate, it had snowed a decent amount the day before but the roads seemed clearish. I hit some black ice, lost control of the back end of the car, spun out, did a 180 and ended up facing the oncoming traffic behind me, screamed a bit with Eliza before the car kept spinning and eventually came to a stop in the grass median between the two sides of the interstate. I thank God daily that there wasn't a semi truck in the lane next to us, right behind us, etc.  So clearly 4 wheel drive isn't always good, but saving money is.  I was willing to give up my four wheel drive for something with better gas mileage. After a little test drive, I decided to go for it.

This Beetle did slightly better than my first one. I had it a week before the check engine light came on. For the first few months, it was one sensor problem after another. It got so I was worried if my check engine light wasn't on. Also the air conditioner stopped working because it needed a new compressor. AND I hit a goliath raccoon that bashed up the grill of the car. Though to be fair, I suppose that last bit wasn't exactly the fault of the car. But if it didn't ride so low, it would have gone right over top the raccoon, so yeah take that VW. Financed with a loan from the Bank of Dad, I got the sensors fixed. That was necessary. I haven't gotten the grill fixed yet, because that's just cosmetic (I think?). The A/C stopped working last September. I forgot about it all winter, and made it until early June before driving a black car with no A/C became too much for me, and I took another BofD loan and got it fixed. Meanwhile, I continued paying off a few credit card balances from a few expensive trips to the vet, a completely necessary vacation to Thailand and India, and some other things.

Big news! Last Saturday, I paid off my credit card. It was a great feeling. I had it all planned out. I'd start using the money I'd been putting towards my credit card to pay back my dad for the first car repairs. Once I had him paid back, I'd save enough money to get the grill fixed. Things were looking up...for about 24 hours. I paid my credit card off on Saturday morning. On Sunday morning, I was playing with our special kitty Billy, and I noticed he had a hole on his back that was oozing and gross. I took him to the vet on Monday. They cleaned his wound, flushed it, antibiotics, etc, paid for via credit card. Then a few days later, my car started shaking when I put it in gear. And the oil dipstick and tube are both completely broken. Ho hum. I haven't taken it to the mechanic yet. I keep hoping the whole thing will explode or something (not while I'm in it) and I can collect insurance money and buy an adult Big Wheel or something else more reliable. They exist.

But where is this stellar German engineering I've heard about? It's not in the VW Beetle, I can tell you that much. I'm going to go ahead an put the Beetle into the "German misses" category. Maybe Germans should stick to what they do well, things like Christmas markets and sausage, and leave the car making to the Japanese.

I've been continuing to work with recruiters towards a job in Korea. I'm still unsure if I'll go, but I'm also still broke, so Korea is looking like a sort of okay option. Yesterday I contacted a recruiter to find out the status of a few jobs he was supposed to apply to for me. He quickly responded back, saying he was apprehensive to schedule me for interviews because I was unreliable and poor at communicating. Ummm...whoa, way to sound like an ex boyfriend. Introvert vs extrovert is all the rage on the interwebs right now. However, I don't need to take some Buzzfeed quiz to know that I'm an introvert with a capital don't talk to me. But in this circumstance, I feel like he was the one who should have maintained better communication with me. He gets paid based on whether or not I sign with a school he found for me. So he should be buttering me up. He should be emailing me. He should be keeping me informed. I replied with a huh? type email. He responded back, saying he hadn't heard from me in a week. And I needed to be checking my email daily and keeping him updated. Ummm...again. I haven't done anything. He's supposed to be scheduling me interviews. That's how this works. I have nothing to update him on because he hasn't done anything for me.
"Dear Jeremy, Today I drank a kale and spinach smoothie for breakfast. I have to go to work later. I really don't want to. The cat threw up again. I hope she's not sick. The leaves have completely changed colors now. They're mostly yellow this year. I prefer red.  Love, Laura"
I'm pretty sure there is no Korean translation for the word logic.

I have some money left on a Von Maur gift card I got for my birthday. Gift card money is harder to spend than my own money. My thinking is "how often do I get to go to such and such store, and spend someone else's money?? I have to make this count!" So I've been holding on to this gift card since June, but I've finally decided what I'm going to purchase with it-some real Ugg boots. Eliza, before you judge, hear me out. Until it's socially acceptable to spend the months of October-April wearing a Forever Lazy under a Snuggie, I do my best to make all my clothes feel like pajamas. One day last week as I was leaving to run some errands, my mom told me I looked like a bag lady. I go for warmth and comfort, hence the less than flattering but so snuggly warm fleece lined leggings I wrote about/wore nonstop last winter. Note to self-check to see if Target has those again. If yes- buy new pair. If not-repair holes in last year's pair. In addition to the fleece lined leggings, I also have been known to sport fake Uggs. Warm? Yes. Soft? Yes. Comfortable? Yes. Ugly? You bet. Do I care? No. The problem is that I wear my  $20 "Uggs" so much that I only ever get a year or two max out of each pair. So this year, I've decided to spring for the real deal, in the hopes that with a bit of TLC, they'll last me more than one winter. You get what you pay for, right? Maybe? Hopefully? Sometimes.

This is a really good article to make all my car, money, recruiter problems seem like nothing.

So this happened

Yesterday I learned a very important life lesson-Never stand between a German and his beer.


In my post from yesterday morning, I failed to address one of my options. As it turns out, it's better that I forgot, because last night something happened that perfectly illustrates why this option is not in the running.

The option-living at home, taking classes online for my masters, continuing my restaurant/subbing work. As I already said, this is not in the running, not even close. My parents are the raddest parents a girl could want. They're great. I love hanging out with them, and the reason why this choice is not in the running has nothing to do with them. My reason for not wanting this is because I HATE (bold and capital, so you know I mean business) my jobs.

I can pretty easily summarize subbing in one word-meh. It's tiring and more or less thankless. It's like babysitting for the Duggar family. The worst thing about it is the pay. For 7:45ish-3:15ish, the post tax pay is $66. $66 a day, obviously without benefits is not enough to live off of, even without rent. What's a girl to do? Get a second job. Enter restaurant job. Therein lies the problem.

As far as restaurant jobs go, the place I work at is pretty great. The managers are mostly chill. The money is mostly good. The hours are mostly short. We are closed on holidays. My problem is that I'm just beyond sick of waitressing. Minus the 3 years I was living abroad, I've been working in restaurants since I was 16. That's a long time. The thought of subbing and waitressing for another two years is enough to make me run for the hills hoping that Ted Kacynski's shack is unoccupied, and I'll spend the rest of my life as a hill person, living in solitude.

I can't deal with customers anymore. In my 15 years of restaurant work, I've seen/heard it all. I've cleaned up puke on several occasions, dirty diapers left at the table (classy, I know), and feces, among other things. I've unclogged toilets. I've crawled completely inside of an ice machine. I've burned myself. I've cut myself. My upper legs are always bruised from bumping into chairs. I have a faint cross shaped scar on my finger from slamming my finger into the tomato dicer at Country Kitchen. I've messed up orders. I've dropped plates. I've spilled on customers. I've waited on Rihanna. I've poured drinks for Scottie Pippen. I held the door for David Sedaris at a Starbucks. Not work related, I know, but still the best moment of my life. I've dropped cases of beer. I've been showered in beer from improperly changing kegs. I've had my butt grabbed. I've been kissed. I've been hugged. I've been slapped. I've been tripped. One time a customer asked if he could watch me lick ranch dressing off the end of a mozzarella stick. For the record, what offended me most about that last one is that everyone knows marinara is the only acceptable dipping sauce for cheese sticks. Also for the record, since I get asked this fairly often-I've never spit in or done anything else to anyone's food. I've never seen anything close to that happen. The most I've done is snag a fry or two off someone's plate.

And of course, I've been treated like less than garbage. Your server is a person. You don't know his/her circumstances, why he/she is working in a restaurant/bar. But regardless of her (saying her from here on out, because I'm a her, and it's just easier than the his/hers he/she nonsense) circumstances, you're not better than her. So, when she is standing at your table, stop your conversing amongst yourselves and let her do her job. Look her in the eyes. Say please. Say thank you. Don't ask for things one at a time, forcing her to make 5 separate trips to your table. If your drink is getting close to empty, and you know you want another one, order it when she's getting drinks orders for the other people at your table, not when she's delivering everyone's refills. If she apologizes for forgetting something, don't hold it against her. We've all made mistakes at work. Don't go to a restaurant 5 minutes before they close and expect your server to be happy you're there. Think how you feel when 5 minutes before you are supposed to finish work, your boss comes to you and says "Yeah, I'm going to need you to go ahead and stay ohhhh another hour or so" when all you want to do is leave work and go to Chotchkies. Here's a fact-If you are mean to a waitress/bartender, you're not a nice person. Period.

That brings me to last night. Originally this post was just going to be a quick little story about last night, but I get all fired up when talking about how awful customers are, I just get on a roll. SO. Last night. Saturday. Busy. I was waitressing, and like most Saturday nights, had a full section. I was seated a table of 3 elderly Germans. One of the men spoke next to no English. The lady's English was okay. And the other man was fairly fluent, so he did most of the talking. And this table was a pain in my a$$ from the moment they sat down. Before I even got to the table they were standing up and heading to the salad bar. Fine, every once in a while we get people who do that. Except this table had never eaten at the restaurant before. They had no idea where anything was, how it worked, etc. They stopped me as I was walking through my section towards their table, asked where the salad bar was, and tried to order from me. I suggested they head on back to the table, and sit down for a few minutes "so we can talk there."  It took them FOREVER, but I finally got their food and drink orders. Just as I was leaving (in addition to their table, I had 2 tables of 6, 2 of 2, and a table of 4. I had other things to do) the guy who spoke very little English grabbed my arm, and said "you wait" while he dug through his shirt and pants pockets, looking for his senior discount card, which was strange because they told me they'd never been in before. So I stood there for close to a minute while he looked. A minute in waitress time is a long time. Finally, I said "It's okay, we can get you another one" I made my escape, but this was one of those tables that yelled for me across my section, whenever I was in earshot-drink refills, where's our food, take this salad plate, bring me Tabasco, etc. When their food came, the fluent English speaking guy called me over and said his steak was cold. He asked if we could put it back on the grill to warm it up.  He had been very adamant that he wanted it cooked medium, not medium well. So I said we'd be happy to put it back on, but when it's back on the grill, it will continue to cook. He was not okay with that, he wanted it put back on the grill a few minutes, but not cooked anymore. I again tried to tell him that even if it's just a few minutes, the steak would cook more, and asked him if that was what he wanted. Again, I was told no. He wanted it on the grill for a few minutes, but not anymore done.  Whatever. So I gave the steak to my coworker and relayed the message. I turned and walked back into my section, and naturally I heard him squawking at me "MISS! MISS! YOU GO GET MY STEAK NOW" Literally, it was on there 30 seconds. At this point I wanted nothing more than to slam his face down onto the 600 degree fire that was currently "warming but not cooking anymore" his steak. But, 15 years of waitressing, and I've learned to keep my cool.  I smiled and said "Of course, I'll be right back." A few minutes later I was walking through my section again, and he squawked at me "MISS! MISS! MISS!" I turned to see what he wanted. He was holding up his beer mug and squawked "small Killians!" I wrote it on the ticket. Then I stopped by one of my tables of 6 and took some drink orders for them. Then I went to the bar and dropped off both tickets. It was around 7:30 on a Saturday night. There were two bartenders, getting drinks for all their bar customers, as well as making the drinks for the servers' tickets. They were busy. Most people understand that. So after dropping off my drink tickets, I took a few dirty plates back to the dishwasher, glanced at the bar to see if my drinks were ready, they weren't, so I headed back to my section. Sitting at the table next to the table of Germans was my other table of 6. I went first to them, to see if they needed anything. They ordered a few drinks from me, then started asking me some questions about the beers we have. In the middle of this conversation, Germany once again starts squawking at me "MISS! MISS!" The ladies at the table I was talking to stopped, glanced at him, and gave me a WTF? look. I said "Sir, please wait. It will be just a minute. Let me finish with them first." 30 seconds later, I went over to my table of Germans. This was what happened.
German man yelling: WHAT DID I ASK YOU FOR?
Me: A small Killians. It's coming. The bartenders are pretty busy. I apologize, but it is coming.
German man, still yelling: NO NO NO! YOU TAKE TOO LONG. FIRST YOU FORGET MY BEER, AND THEN YOU TELL ME TO BE QUIET. YOU ARE VERY RUDE TO ME.
Me: First of all, your drink ticket is at the bar. It is coming. I didn't forget anything. Second of all, I didn't tell you to be quiet. I asked you to wait a minute, because I was in the middle of talking to someone else.
GM, still yelling and getting louder: FINE, SO DRINK IS NOT YOUR FAULT. BUT YOU STILL ARE RUDE TO ME. YOU ARE VERY RUDE.
Me: Sir, I was in the middle of talking to someone else. If I left her, to talk to you, then I would be rude to her. What did you want me to? I will go get your beer right now.
GM: NO NO NO! IT TAKE TOO LONG. I WANT SPRITE NOW. LITTLE ICE. WITH LEMON AND LIME.
Me: Sir, the sprite comes from the bartenders as well. It will take just as long. Maybe by now they have your beer.
GM: NO! TOO LONG AND YOU ARE RUDE. I DON'T WANT BEER. NOW I WANT SPRITE WITH LITTLE ICE AND LEMON AND LIME. WHAT DID I ASK YOU FOR?
Me: In my head-You're asking for me to slit your tires you patronizing old ugly codger. Reality-Sprite. Little ice. Lemon. Lime.
And I walked away. The other tables in my section had heard the whole thing because he was yelling so loudly. They were all sitting there with their mouths hanging open. I've never been treated so rudely by a customer before. I went to find my manager, and said I was done waiting on table 604. I gave him the rundown of what happened. And this is where I really love the managers of the restaurant. Other places I've worked would have said "Too damn bad. Go out there and do your job!" But my manager took the ticket from me, and said "Ok, we'll have someone else finish the table. Don't look at him. Don't let him say anything else to you. Pretend he isn't there" The manager went over to the table, and the old guy ripped him a new one as well. It was a bit awkward having them still sitting in my section, but not as awkward as it would have been had I had to finish waiting on them. Finally they left, and as they were leaving the German lady at the table came up to me and apologized for her dinner companion's bad behavior. A nice gesture, I guess. A nicer gesture would be to keep the old man away from the public if he can't control himself.

Back to my original point-I'm burnt out. I really really can't do this for 2 more years. I need a break from food service. And be nice to your servers.

Looking for some dilemmanade

Why do I write about Korea in all my posts? I miss it. A lot. I feel it's often overlooked, like people jump from Japan right into China when traveling in Asia. Fact-Korea kicks both of those countries' behinds. China vs. Korea = not even close, and I loved Beijing, but come on now. Every bizarre, disgusting, or horrifying news story no doubt comes from China. To be fair, I haven't spend more than an overnight layover in Japan. BUT, Korea is just as safe, modern, and neon, and waaaaaay cheaper.  I also feel like I've not done a good job getting across how truly awesome it is. Go there. You won't regret it. Noraebang. Jjimjilbang. Precious kids. Tuna kimbap. The burnt up rice at the bottom of dolsot bibimbap. Just go. But go in the fall. The weather during the other 3 seasons kind of sucks.

I've been talking to recruiters, and I had an interview with a school the other night. I'm not entirely sure another year there is what I'll do, but I'm keeping my options open. So while I was interviewing via phone with this school, I could hear all the kinderhearts making noise in the background. Heartstrings = pulled.
That night I had a dream that it was my first day teaching there, but I was late for class because I was trying to finish a glass of Stella before going. It makes sense, because I do enjoy a draft beer at 9:00 AM each day. Doesn't everyone? Coffee's for nerds.

I have a dilemma. After spending most of my 20s trying to figure out what I wanted to do with my life, I thought I was finally making some important decisions. The plan-take online classes towards my masters with certification in elementary education, while teaching in Korea so that I would be able to pay for more of it upfront and not be as far in debt with more student loans. The reality-online schools are not keen on thinking outside of the box.
Here is an example of a conversation I've had with advisors at pretty much every online school ever.
AA: You must be located in the USA to complete this program.
Me: Well, I understand for student teaching I'd need to be somewhere where my supervisor can come and watch me teach. I'd return to the US for that. But, what I'm asking is can I complete PART of the program overseas.
AA: No, you must do clinicals at accredited American schools.
Me: There's a huge military base located in Seoul. There are American schools there.
AA: No.
Me: What if I just took some classes that don't require classroom work while I lived abroad, then returned home to complete those classes that do require it.
AA: No.
Me: Isn't location one of the big appeals to online school? Also, what are people who work full time supposed to do when they have to work in the classroom?
AA:  Well, you'd have to miss work, or quit your job (practical). But you must be located in the US.
Me: Why? What difference does it make where I am, if I'm never going to an actual physical college classroom?
AA: You must be located in the US.
Me: If I'm living in the US, I'm not going to go to your pseudo school (certain "university" based in Arizona that advertises on TV, I'm looking at you!). I'd go to a real one.

It's possible I only thought that last part.

Stupid. You'd think any institution would be happy to take my $30,000. So, now my options are spend a year or so in Korea, saving as much money as possible to pay for school when I get back. Or...I dunno. Figure out plan C. Right now moving out on my own to a college town and enrolling in classes is not really an option because moving takes money, which I have none of. I also have no furniture or anything along those lines that a person likes to put in their home, because I sold it all when I left Chicago. I don't remember what I used that money for, but I'm sure it was delicious.

Update on my last post- I should have given more thought to the time of year before posting the sports bra selfies and challenging myself to doing Insanity again. It should be illegal to exercise inside during fall. I've been doing Insanity only 1-2 days a week, and running on the others. The weather was too perfect for anything else. Notice the past tense, as that all changed and fast. My India bedspread is now waaaaaay too light, even with the assistance of my corn bag. I've held out as long as possible on wearing an actual coat, but temperatures in the 20s are forecast for next week, so I guess it's time. Brrr!  But, on a more positive note, this crap weather means more time for me and Shaun T. ILU ST!