I know it's been a while since my last post so obviously things have been going well in my world. Funny how it takes less than a week in Italy to churn things up.
I've come to terms with many of my Italian annoyances. I accept that when I go to the supermarket I will be stared at as though I have 3 heads. I accept that the 'rules of the road' are only mere suggestions here. And that when I get on the freeway, no matter how fast I'm driving, someone will need to drive faster and crawl up my tailpipe to let me know.
As many of you know, I have a Harley. A 1998 Heritage Softail to be exact. Black. With lots of chrome. Not exactly a small bike. There is a severe lack of straight roads in Tuscany. In all of Italy really. So my bike really isn't ideal for the roads here. But I love it and couldn't imagine riding any other type of bike. How I would love to cruise the highways in North America where the majority of people actually follow the rules of the road. But, my bike is here so I just have to suck it up.
Due to my current situation, I don't spend much time in Italy, so riding opportunities are limited. When I do get the chance, there's always been a very large gap between rides so I'm always nervous. Will I remember what to do? Can I handle my bike? Things of that nature. But, once I actually get going, I relax and all is well. I also remind myself of all the times I rode in less than ideal situations. There was the time when I first got the bike and the fellow whom I bought it from had 'modified' it. And poorly. He had extended the foot controls, put on a custom seat and made it so that the bike was very off balance. But I rode. I navigated hairpin turns, up a hill without incident. Then there was the time that I lost my rear brakes during the beginning of my ride. But, I rode all day (I still had the front brakes) and used my gears to my advantage (I do that anyway). During that particular adventure, I was almost hit head on by an individual driving recklessly down a hill. There were many blind corners but he didn't feel the need to slow down or stay on his side of the road for that matter. Fortunately, I had thought to stay as far to my right as possible while riding up the hill. These are just some of the little joys of riding.
Today though brought my blood to a boil. I am used to being passed. In fact, I expect it. But today's jackass figured he should pass me on the inside while I was in a left turning roundabout. Are you kidding me? What planet granted you a driver's license Mr Volvo? I realize that you're probably really choked that you're stuck driving a soccer mom mobile while I'm on a super cool Harley. And, as I exited the roundabout and gunned it, I totally expected you to pass me. Notice I had my middle finger salute at the ready for you. And the best part, he gave me a salute of his own because of course he didn't do anything wrong.
So to you Mr Volvo, I wish you all sorts of bad luck. I hope you get caught drinking and driving and they suspend your license because you have no business having one in the first place.
I feel much better now.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Self-Entitlement
During my time at UHH I met some very lovely people. Unfortunately, this isn't the blog to talk about them. What really stands out was all the people who had a sense of self-entitlement. It actually got very hard to keep straight. With so many King Shits and only one turd mountain you can imagine the confusion. It was only on the last day that it was made clear to me. You see, UHH was not a union of efforts. It was a collection of individual efforts striving to best one another and make someone else look bad. Plus, not everyone was playing by the same rules. So, it was like the San Andreas fault. Each piece trying to work with the other but really floating on top of another piece.
So, among all these pieces were people who rated high above the rest of us and they let us all know that.
After the Olympic Appendectomy, I returned to UHH a mere 6 hours after release from the hospital. Crazy? Yes I know. (my reasons will follow in another post). As I'm sitting at my winebar (yes, MY winebar) indulging in a cup of cappuccino goodness, a man approaches and starts flipping through one of the wine books we had on the counter.
"Oh my" the man says. "What a fabulous book. My son would absolutely love it. Can I have it?"
Now, I instantly recognize the gentleman as one of the Self-Entitled. I don't know what his actual position is or exactly why he's one of the Self-Entitled but I know him to be the part of the San Andreas fault that floats on top of the others,.
"Unfortunately" I say, "This is our only copy and I'm not authorized to give it away. Do you not live in Italy?"
"Yes" he replies
"Well, this book is widely available in all bookstores and supermarkets. You can easily pick up a copy there"
"I've never seen it" says the man
Now, I'm thinking, do you live under a rock? But I ask "Where do you live?"
"Rome" he replies.
Of course, makes sense, the cradle of western civilization obviously wouldn't have such a book.
Now, realizing that Mr Self-Entitled wanted the book and as Mr Self-Entitled he shall have the book, I knew when the battle was lost. So when he asked what he could possibly do to have the book I just put my cheek forward for a kiss.
He was happy. For about 30 seconds.
As he snatched the book in his greedy little hands, along came someone who didn't play the Self-Entitled game. The only person who could put him in his place. The person who brought the book to UHH in the first place.
"I'm sorry" said the wine book man " but you can't take that book as it's our only copy."
"Don't you know who I am?" said Mr Self-Entitled " I'm the director of UHH."
"Well" said the wine book man "I'm the director of the wine division of UHH and you can't take that book. Give me your address and I will make sure a copy is waiting for you once you arrive home."
SNAP!
Well, Mr Self-Entitled didn't take to kindly to that and left muttering under his breath. I was asked why I didn't stick to my guns and insist about the book. First off, I'm tired. Tired of the game and all these people. Secondly, it's just a book which I knew he was going to take no matter what I said. He's Mr Self-Entitled after all.
The next day, there is still discussion about the incident and the book is still on the counter. After some time I comment that it will be a miracle if the book does not disappear. Nonsense I am told as Mr Self-Entitled has been put in his place.
Within the hour the book is gone. And ever so coincidentally, I see Mr Self-Entitled not too far away. I don't actually believe he took it. I believe he sent one of his lackeys to take it. And the really funny thing is this. The book sells for around $15. It's small, hard-covered and heavy. Why would you want to take something that you can easily buy back home? Plus something that is heavy and just going to add additional weight to your luggage?
I can just see him at the airport with his overweight luggage.
"You're luggage is overweight sir."
"But I'm Mr Self-Entitled."
"Don't care sir, either take something out or go to the counter and pay the excess weight charges."
"And have a nice day."
So, among all these pieces were people who rated high above the rest of us and they let us all know that.
After the Olympic Appendectomy, I returned to UHH a mere 6 hours after release from the hospital. Crazy? Yes I know. (my reasons will follow in another post). As I'm sitting at my winebar (yes, MY winebar) indulging in a cup of cappuccino goodness, a man approaches and starts flipping through one of the wine books we had on the counter.
"Oh my" the man says. "What a fabulous book. My son would absolutely love it. Can I have it?"
Now, I instantly recognize the gentleman as one of the Self-Entitled. I don't know what his actual position is or exactly why he's one of the Self-Entitled but I know him to be the part of the San Andreas fault that floats on top of the others,.
"Unfortunately" I say, "This is our only copy and I'm not authorized to give it away. Do you not live in Italy?"
"Yes" he replies
"Well, this book is widely available in all bookstores and supermarkets. You can easily pick up a copy there"
"I've never seen it" says the man
Now, I'm thinking, do you live under a rock? But I ask "Where do you live?"
"Rome" he replies.
Of course, makes sense, the cradle of western civilization obviously wouldn't have such a book.
Now, realizing that Mr Self-Entitled wanted the book and as Mr Self-Entitled he shall have the book, I knew when the battle was lost. So when he asked what he could possibly do to have the book I just put my cheek forward for a kiss.
He was happy. For about 30 seconds.
As he snatched the book in his greedy little hands, along came someone who didn't play the Self-Entitled game. The only person who could put him in his place. The person who brought the book to UHH in the first place.
"I'm sorry" said the wine book man " but you can't take that book as it's our only copy."
"Don't you know who I am?" said Mr Self-Entitled " I'm the director of UHH."
"Well" said the wine book man "I'm the director of the wine division of UHH and you can't take that book. Give me your address and I will make sure a copy is waiting for you once you arrive home."
SNAP!
Well, Mr Self-Entitled didn't take to kindly to that and left muttering under his breath. I was asked why I didn't stick to my guns and insist about the book. First off, I'm tired. Tired of the game and all these people. Secondly, it's just a book which I knew he was going to take no matter what I said. He's Mr Self-Entitled after all.
The next day, there is still discussion about the incident and the book is still on the counter. After some time I comment that it will be a miracle if the book does not disappear. Nonsense I am told as Mr Self-Entitled has been put in his place.
Within the hour the book is gone. And ever so coincidentally, I see Mr Self-Entitled not too far away. I don't actually believe he took it. I believe he sent one of his lackeys to take it. And the really funny thing is this. The book sells for around $15. It's small, hard-covered and heavy. Why would you want to take something that you can easily buy back home? Plus something that is heavy and just going to add additional weight to your luggage?
I can just see him at the airport with his overweight luggage.
"You're luggage is overweight sir."
"But I'm Mr Self-Entitled."
"Don't care sir, either take something out or go to the counter and pay the excess weight charges."
"And have a nice day."
Monday, March 1, 2010
Farewell Ms Red Runners
Dear Ms Red Runners,
I'm glad that you are so excited about leaving Vancouver but no where near the excitement we as a city feel about you leaving.
I wish I could say it's been a pleasure knowing you but the complete opposite is more accurate. I have never met an individual as mean spirited as you. As we reminissed about our time together last night, it was especially fun having you throw a moment from 22 days ago back in my face again. A moment in which I was just doing my job by the way.
Ah good times.
Well, farewell Red Runners. May we never meet again. May the flight you're on this morning be oversold and leave you without a seat. May they re-route you in such a way that it would be faster for you to walk back to the country where the rock you live under is. May they lose your luggage and not have the meal you desired. And may they seat a young mother and her screaming child next to you.
Yours truly,
Winesnob
I'm glad that you are so excited about leaving Vancouver but no where near the excitement we as a city feel about you leaving.
I wish I could say it's been a pleasure knowing you but the complete opposite is more accurate. I have never met an individual as mean spirited as you. As we reminissed about our time together last night, it was especially fun having you throw a moment from 22 days ago back in my face again. A moment in which I was just doing my job by the way.
Ah good times.
Well, farewell Red Runners. May we never meet again. May the flight you're on this morning be oversold and leave you without a seat. May they re-route you in such a way that it would be faster for you to walk back to the country where the rock you live under is. May they lose your luggage and not have the meal you desired. And may they seat a young mother and her screaming child next to you.
Yours truly,
Winesnob
Sunday, February 28, 2010
The Iceman No Longer Cometh
Ice is a pretty basic comodity when running a restaurant/bar. In our situation, it's required to keep the wine chilled during dinner service as well as at the actual wine bar. While we were getting organized at the beginning it was decided that the wine bar really didn't need an ice delivery service as we would need about one bag a day so we would just pick it up at the supermarket across the street and as I lived in the neighborhood, I volunteered to handle this.
The first day I picked up 4 bags figuring this would last 4 days. Being as the bags were heavy and awkward, I figured it would be much easier to fill up a shopping cart and have one of the supermarket staff escort me across the street and load up the freezer which was located near the kitchen/dining room area. So I then purchased 15 bags of ice, essentially enough to get us through the Olympics. Imagine my surprise a few days later when the ice was all gone. It seems the dining room staff was helping themselves to the ice for the nightly wine service. And so it began that I became the iceman (or icewoman). I really didn't mind as we are all part of the same Olympic team. All of us working together towards a common goal.
Things seemed to be proceeding smoothly, or so I thought. It seems as I was the only one monitoring this ice situation. Even though they all witnessed my arrival with shopping carts full of ice, they became convinced that they had a magical freezer which miraculously filled itself with bags of ice. Apparently there was quite a commotion on one of my (few) days off because there was no ice. Oh no! What on earth could they do? Their magical freezer was no longer magical. Thankfully things did not grind to a complete halt as they managed to find their way to the supermarket and it's ice section all by themselves. All was good.
At the other end of the house lived the wine bar and it's now infamous coffee machine. With the arrival of the baristas came the arrival of cappuccinos, lattes and macchiatos. Oh what happy times these were. In order to make these warm mugs of joy, milk was required. And what better place to find this milk than in the kitchen. And so it came to pass that I would go to the kitchen and the lovely chefs would provide me with the milk for the baristas to make these cups of happiness.
And then a dark cloud fell over the house. One day a member of the dining room staff inquired as to why I needed milk. To make cups of happiness I replied. Oh no. This was not acceptable because the kitchen only ordered enough milk for their needs and the coffee bar did not fall into that category.
What?!!!!
You have to be frickin kidding me? You stick a frickin coffee machine in my wine bar, expect me to come up with the baristas to run it (which I did) and now I'm to buy the milk to make the cups of happiness you're all enjoying? How on earth does that become the responsibility of a wine shop?
And the dark cloud grew.
Coincidentally (maybe not) a few days later the Olympic Appendectomy happened. It was no longer possible for the icewoman to arrive with shoppng carts full of ice. She arrived with one bag and milk. A few days passed and they stared into their once magical freezer with wonder. Why was it no longer producing bags of ice? Because you pissed me off that's why. Enough is enough. Team spirit, what team spirit? It's now everyman for himself. You're not going to provide me with milk, I'll be damned if I'm going to supply you with ice. As a kitchen, you should have signed on with an ice provider from the beginning when it was suggested to you. I'm sure this isn't your first time at the rodeo. You should all know better, it's your job for crying out loud. And to top it all off, you come to me requesting ice and saying it's the job of the winebar to provide it. Well, it's the kitchen's stinkin job to provide milk and as that's not happening, neither is the other.
The Iceman no longer cometh.
The first day I picked up 4 bags figuring this would last 4 days. Being as the bags were heavy and awkward, I figured it would be much easier to fill up a shopping cart and have one of the supermarket staff escort me across the street and load up the freezer which was located near the kitchen/dining room area. So I then purchased 15 bags of ice, essentially enough to get us through the Olympics. Imagine my surprise a few days later when the ice was all gone. It seems the dining room staff was helping themselves to the ice for the nightly wine service. And so it began that I became the iceman (or icewoman). I really didn't mind as we are all part of the same Olympic team. All of us working together towards a common goal.
Things seemed to be proceeding smoothly, or so I thought. It seems as I was the only one monitoring this ice situation. Even though they all witnessed my arrival with shopping carts full of ice, they became convinced that they had a magical freezer which miraculously filled itself with bags of ice. Apparently there was quite a commotion on one of my (few) days off because there was no ice. Oh no! What on earth could they do? Their magical freezer was no longer magical. Thankfully things did not grind to a complete halt as they managed to find their way to the supermarket and it's ice section all by themselves. All was good.
At the other end of the house lived the wine bar and it's now infamous coffee machine. With the arrival of the baristas came the arrival of cappuccinos, lattes and macchiatos. Oh what happy times these were. In order to make these warm mugs of joy, milk was required. And what better place to find this milk than in the kitchen. And so it came to pass that I would go to the kitchen and the lovely chefs would provide me with the milk for the baristas to make these cups of happiness.
And then a dark cloud fell over the house. One day a member of the dining room staff inquired as to why I needed milk. To make cups of happiness I replied. Oh no. This was not acceptable because the kitchen only ordered enough milk for their needs and the coffee bar did not fall into that category.
What?!!!!
You have to be frickin kidding me? You stick a frickin coffee machine in my wine bar, expect me to come up with the baristas to run it (which I did) and now I'm to buy the milk to make the cups of happiness you're all enjoying? How on earth does that become the responsibility of a wine shop?
And the dark cloud grew.
Coincidentally (maybe not) a few days later the Olympic Appendectomy happened. It was no longer possible for the icewoman to arrive with shoppng carts full of ice. She arrived with one bag and milk. A few days passed and they stared into their once magical freezer with wonder. Why was it no longer producing bags of ice? Because you pissed me off that's why. Enough is enough. Team spirit, what team spirit? It's now everyman for himself. You're not going to provide me with milk, I'll be damned if I'm going to supply you with ice. As a kitchen, you should have signed on with an ice provider from the beginning when it was suggested to you. I'm sure this isn't your first time at the rodeo. You should all know better, it's your job for crying out loud. And to top it all off, you come to me requesting ice and saying it's the job of the winebar to provide it. Well, it's the kitchen's stinkin job to provide milk and as that's not happening, neither is the other.
The Iceman no longer cometh.
Friday, February 26, 2010
The UnHappiness House - Barista Blackmail
There is a venue in Vancouver this Olympics called LiveCity Yaletown. This venue has nightly concerts and some pavillions. One of these pavillions is the Coca-Cola pavillion also known as the Happiness House. My home for the last 20 days has been in a pavillion very close to the Happiness House but the complete opposite. The UnHappiness House or UHH.
As things are starting to wind down, people's patience is wearing thin and what little collaboration that there was has now ceased to exist. We're all very tired. Some of us have nothing left to give and some of us have just given too much. As it turns out, I've given an appendix. Each day there is a new drama and last night's just takes the cake.
The coffee drama was settled several weeks back with the addition of rotating baristas. Some great kids have come in and helped us out in so many ways. They've gone above and beyond. Yesterday we had a new addition to our rotating baristas. He seemed nice enough and when I left last night his big concern was his dinner break. No big deal, when there's a break in action go get some food. I was too tired to really give much thought to this but his insistence on his dinner break did strike me as odd.
Now some of us, like myself, don't even bother eating at UHH. I actually just sampled the cuisine for the first time this week. Maybe it's because I am exposed to that style of cuisine so often that it's lost it's appeal to me or maybe it's just that when I get free time I just want out of there. But I guess a meal at UHH was a big deal to the new barista and as it happened, last night was rather busy and he got turned away from the dining room. And not just once but several times. Instead of trying to understand the situation at hand, new barista develops a major tude and essentially walks out.
I don't really give this situation much thought, everyone gets pissy sometimes and when he showed up again today for his shift I thought all was well. I was wrong. I now have to deal with a mini-barista revolution. I have to listen to how these people were promised access to the restaurant, how they have taken a paycut to be there and if this situation isn't resolved all the baristas will be pulled from service.
Seriously? Are you shitting me? All this because some dude didn't get a plate of pasta? And, I'm told all will be well if he can come in and have dinner with his girlfriend tonight. You have just chosen the wrong day and the wrong person to try barista blackmail. Here's why. I don't care anymore. I don't give a crap if you and your baristas walk. I'll unplug that stupid coffee machine and send everyone to Starbucks. Although I have no medical evidence to back me up, I know my appendicitis is directly related to UHH. I'm there 6 hours after being released from the hospital and your stupid barista is going to walk because dining room staff weren't nice to him? Then, you further your shakedown by saying that you really wouldn't want Mr B (the guy who helped acquire the barristas) to know of this heinous behaviour.
Call him. Please call him. Let him deal with this nonsense as what you don't get is that I have nothing to do with the dining room and furthermore, I DON'T CARE. I have bigger problems to deal with, other fires to put out and no more appendix to give.
As things are starting to wind down, people's patience is wearing thin and what little collaboration that there was has now ceased to exist. We're all very tired. Some of us have nothing left to give and some of us have just given too much. As it turns out, I've given an appendix. Each day there is a new drama and last night's just takes the cake.
The coffee drama was settled several weeks back with the addition of rotating baristas. Some great kids have come in and helped us out in so many ways. They've gone above and beyond. Yesterday we had a new addition to our rotating baristas. He seemed nice enough and when I left last night his big concern was his dinner break. No big deal, when there's a break in action go get some food. I was too tired to really give much thought to this but his insistence on his dinner break did strike me as odd.
Now some of us, like myself, don't even bother eating at UHH. I actually just sampled the cuisine for the first time this week. Maybe it's because I am exposed to that style of cuisine so often that it's lost it's appeal to me or maybe it's just that when I get free time I just want out of there. But I guess a meal at UHH was a big deal to the new barista and as it happened, last night was rather busy and he got turned away from the dining room. And not just once but several times. Instead of trying to understand the situation at hand, new barista develops a major tude and essentially walks out.
I don't really give this situation much thought, everyone gets pissy sometimes and when he showed up again today for his shift I thought all was well. I was wrong. I now have to deal with a mini-barista revolution. I have to listen to how these people were promised access to the restaurant, how they have taken a paycut to be there and if this situation isn't resolved all the baristas will be pulled from service.
Seriously? Are you shitting me? All this because some dude didn't get a plate of pasta? And, I'm told all will be well if he can come in and have dinner with his girlfriend tonight. You have just chosen the wrong day and the wrong person to try barista blackmail. Here's why. I don't care anymore. I don't give a crap if you and your baristas walk. I'll unplug that stupid coffee machine and send everyone to Starbucks. Although I have no medical evidence to back me up, I know my appendicitis is directly related to UHH. I'm there 6 hours after being released from the hospital and your stupid barista is going to walk because dining room staff weren't nice to him? Then, you further your shakedown by saying that you really wouldn't want Mr B (the guy who helped acquire the barristas) to know of this heinous behaviour.
Call him. Please call him. Let him deal with this nonsense as what you don't get is that I have nothing to do with the dining room and furthermore, I DON'T CARE. I have bigger problems to deal with, other fires to put out and no more appendix to give.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
I'm Important....Mr Look At Me
Dear Mr Self-Important,
I just want to apologize for your not getting 110% of our attention last night. It was unfortunate that there happened to be over 100 invited guests also in attendance most of whom had never been to our venue, unlike yourself who has been there every night. So while we were attending to their needs, and providing the waiters with Prosecco to pass around, you got neglected. But thank-you for pointing out to us that you are a Knight in some order we have never heard about. In future, we will make sure to address your needs immediately and keep all the other International Olympic Committee presidents waiting. We now know that you are King Shit of your particular Turd Mountain. Our bad in treating you like Little Fart the Court Jester.
You can be sure that this will never happen again.
Sincerely,
Winesnob
I just want to apologize for your not getting 110% of our attention last night. It was unfortunate that there happened to be over 100 invited guests also in attendance most of whom had never been to our venue, unlike yourself who has been there every night. So while we were attending to their needs, and providing the waiters with Prosecco to pass around, you got neglected. But thank-you for pointing out to us that you are a Knight in some order we have never heard about. In future, we will make sure to address your needs immediately and keep all the other International Olympic Committee presidents waiting. We now know that you are King Shit of your particular Turd Mountain. Our bad in treating you like Little Fart the Court Jester.
You can be sure that this will never happen again.
Sincerely,
Winesnob
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Over Compensation
I have a new neighbor across the street. The apartment seems to be about my size (700 sq/ft). The TV they have gives me the same impression as that of the screen at a drive-in theatre. If the angle was slightly different, I would have a perfect visual. All I would need is to figure out what radio station to tune in to for the audio. His screen makes my Asian neighbors' look like a portable DVD player.
Over-compensating for something perhaps?
Over-compensating for something perhaps?
Red Runners
Ms Red Runners,
Just wondering, if you click your heels 3 times, will you go home?
Please try.
Update: It must of worked.....she ended up in Whistler.
Update #2...Damn, she's back
Just wondering, if you click your heels 3 times, will you go home?
Please try.
Update: It must of worked.....she ended up in Whistler.
Update #2...Damn, she's back
Monday, February 8, 2010
Casa Italia and the Espresso Machine
I have a nemesis. My nemesis is an espresso machine. Now I don't even know if an inanimate object can be a nemesis but for the sake of arguement (and this post) let's say it can. Now there isn't anything actually wrong with this espresso machine, it makes perfectly fine coffee. The problem is that they've put this machine in my winebar. That's right, MY winebar. Why is this a problem you ask? Well, I'll tell you. Everytime I'm back there trying to get anything done ( and in the last few days there were many things to get done) I'm constantly interrupted by someone wanting a coffee. And, even though I politely explain that I'm not responsible, I get attitude. Major attitude. I'm a Sommelier, not a barista. On Saturday night, Casa Italia hosted a dinner for various members of the local Italian community and other guests. There were over 140 people seated for dinner. It was established prior to the evening that myself and my wonderful wine assistant Jana, would be responsible for the winebar then wine service at dinner. We would not have to deal with Mr Espresso. Fine. After being run off our feet trying to provide very excellent wine service, we went back to the winebar area to collect our things. At this point, the crowd present was then expecting us to make coffee. Again we politely explained that we were not baristas. The next morning, upon my return, I encountered one of the ladies who is present daily at Casa Italia. I have no idea who she is or what she does. She is making herself a coffee when I arrived and after I cheerfully said good morning, she turns to me and gives me this major attitude about the fact that I didn't make coffee for her last night. Pardon? First off, I don't even remember speaking to her, secondly, it wasn't my responsibility to make the damn coffee. And lady, if you're that irritable, perhaps you should be cutting back anyway. And while you're at it, get rid of the menstrual red runners, they're not attractive.
Now I'm really pissed. I've had enough of this nonsense and take matters into my own hands. I head out to resolve this espresso issue once and for all. I will not be spoken to in such a manner when I have done absolutely nothing to deserve it. I let the powers at be know that there needs to be an official espresso person present during the day. They agreee but make no motions to find one and just tell me to because apparently I'm also a walking classified section. Fortunately, I did have a lead on someone and made the call. I'm happy to report that within an hour, I had found our new barista and she starts this morning. I will no longer have to deal with Mr Espresso, at least during the day. After dinner, I will turn into a barista.
The wine bar area isn't very big and between the wine glasses and all the damn coffee cups, it was impossible to handle. Executive decision #2 of the day, get rid of the coffee cups, saucers and spoons. They can drink their coffee in the small paper Illy cups provided of which we have large quantities of and use stir sticks. Perfect. I move all the coffee cups into storage. The sun is starting shine again over my wine bar. The actual owners of the machine arrive and agree that this is a good idea and that they will send a person to train our new barista. We all agree to not have any milk handy so cappuccinos are not going to be available. This shouldn't be a problem as I didn't have any requests for any. Spoke to soon. There was one gentleman yesterday who kept asking for milk, just a drop for his coffee as he wanted a macchiato. I told him politely that we did not have milk and we weren't getting any. No good enough obviously because he came back not even an hour later with the same request. He didn't look mentally challenged but I guess looks can be deceiving. I even had one gentleman on the Saturday night ask me for a package of coffee. I told him all we have is large tins of beans which then get ground. He then asked if I could give him a bag of ground coffee so he could make coffee in the morning. Buddy, you're in Vancouver. There is a coffee shop every 10 feet (I think it may be a city ordinance, but I'm not sure). There are more coffee places side by side here than in Italy. You don't need to make coffee in your room. I told him if he found a bag I'd give him coffee. Never saw him again.The deal with the after dinner coffee is that the guests go to the bar and get it themselves. Last night, one of the dinner guests was the head of the Italian sports federation. One of his minions came over asking us to bring him coffee to the dining room. Really now. And, it was determined that a paper cup was just unacceptable. Well, guess what, the cups are locked in the storage room and I don't have a key. So, since I couldn't find anyone to unlock the door, (I did try), Mr Important got his coffee in a paper cup. Which I delivered on a tray, and apologized for it being in a paper cup. He was actually very nice and from what I could figure out later, it wasn't him that wanted the super special service, it's whoever's kissing his butt that wanted to get princess points.
And then there's the person that wanted camomille tea. I won't even go there.
Update: Less than 30 minutes after posting this entry I got a call saying that the girl we hired as barista showed up and left after 30 minutes. This proves that an inanimate object can be a nemesis.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Casa Italia - The Drama Diary - Part 1
Ok, I realize this blog hasn't been the most active lately but I believe in quality and not quantity.
So, with this whole Casa Italia experience there was absolutely no way that it could run efficiently. Italy as a whole doesn't so why should one pocket in a foreign land be any different.
This Drama Diary is subtitled Part 1 because there is no way we're going to get through the rest of the month without a Part 2.
Here goes.
Today I picked up Alessandro the Enoteca Italiana rep. He had a very long flight day with several delays but was still very upbeat and excited about this experience. I took him from the airport to Casa Italia as he wanted to check in and meet the fellow who had arranged his accomodation for the next couple of weeks. His name was Stu.
We get to Casa Italia and it is chaos. I'm really not surprised by this. I've lived in Italy long enough to know how things work. Here's how Casa Italia is structured. The company Assistigroup is running the main show. Toni group is in charge of the restaurant and Enoteca Italiana the wine bar. While most of the other countries 'houses' are setting up in established restaurants and bars, Casa Italia is setting up in a community center. So they are essentially creating a restaurant and bar from scratch. So, this means, getting all the necessary permits. One of the first things I have to hear is that how ridiculous it is here and that being as Vancouver has invited the world, they should be a little more elastic with their rules. It wasn't this difficult in Beijing.
Really? Imagine that. The Chinese not following the rules. Nothing left to say on this subject.
So, after meeting various people and trying to figure out how this whole thing is going to work, along comes Stu.
Stu is about 25 and a realtor. He has forged an agreement to rent a 2 bedroom apartment to Assistigroup for the Toni Group for $11,000 for the month of February. He thinks he's renting to Casa Italia which as a corporation does not exist. This is also his own personal apartment that he's renting. And it's in North Vancouver. About an hour from the Casa Italia site on a good transit day. With a 6 block uphill walk from the sea-bus terminal. So for you non-Vancouverites, the people staying there would have to take the subway, then a boat, then walk a good 10 minutes uphill. All this after working until midnight. Good luck making the transit connections as Vancouver's transit does not run all night. Completely impractical.
In all fairness to Stu, and this is the only part he gets some fairness, he made this clear however, he's selling to someone from out-of-town who doesn't understand the city's logistics and who never took the time to see the property.
Ok. You now have background.
Stu arrived at Casa Italia to take Alessandro to the apartment (his apartment) where he is supposed to be staying during his time in Vancouver. Alessandro asked me to join him so we could go for dinner afterwards. With us was the lady from Toni Group who's staff was also supposed to be staying in this same apartment.
After a very interesting drive with Stu (he drives worse than Italians) we get to our destination. The apartment is lovely however it is completely inappropriate for their needs. Stu, sensing a problem, starts getting pissy. Well, pissy is being kind. He starts copping a major Tude. I pull him aside and start to explain the clients' concerns. Tude gets larger. I then tell him to get the Tude in check as it's not professional. Stu is now not listening to anything as the Tude has obviously impaired his hearing. He now starts behaving like the 25 year old spoiled brat that he is.
Well, it's all downhill from there. Stu, only has a verbal agreement with a rep from Assistigroup. He desperately wants someone to sign the contract but the person with us doesn't have the authorization to do so nor will she as the place does not meet their needs. Stu gets even more childlike. I am trying to get him to behave professionally and chill. But Stu just grabs the shovel and starts digging the hole that he will never be able to emerge from.
Like an episode of the Jersey Shore, Stu calls us names, and kicks us out of his apartment. Very dramatically by the way. I tell him that he is behaving unprofessionally and that he will not have success as a realtor if he doesn't change his behavior. I am told (by Stu) that he is already successful.
Right
So, down the hill we walk, to the seabus, then the skytrain to the Moda hotel where we found accomodation for poor Alessandro (who still has his suitcase in tow). Accomodations are still to be determined for the select Casa Italia staff but there was a 2 bedroom apartment available 2 blocks away from the Casa Italia site for $8,000 for the month. A bargain compared to Stu's offering and in contradiction to Stu's claims of not being able to find any other accomodation in the city at this late date.
This accomodation drama is yet from over. I was happy to have been there, as were my new Italian friends. They got to let me handle Stu (which I was told I handled more tactfully than they would have) and Stu can't claim that he didn't understand what the concerns were.
And I finally got something worthy to blog about.
Stay tuned.
So, with this whole Casa Italia experience there was absolutely no way that it could run efficiently. Italy as a whole doesn't so why should one pocket in a foreign land be any different.
This Drama Diary is subtitled Part 1 because there is no way we're going to get through the rest of the month without a Part 2.
Here goes.
Today I picked up Alessandro the Enoteca Italiana rep. He had a very long flight day with several delays but was still very upbeat and excited about this experience. I took him from the airport to Casa Italia as he wanted to check in and meet the fellow who had arranged his accomodation for the next couple of weeks. His name was Stu.
We get to Casa Italia and it is chaos. I'm really not surprised by this. I've lived in Italy long enough to know how things work. Here's how Casa Italia is structured. The company Assistigroup is running the main show. Toni group is in charge of the restaurant and Enoteca Italiana the wine bar. While most of the other countries 'houses' are setting up in established restaurants and bars, Casa Italia is setting up in a community center. So they are essentially creating a restaurant and bar from scratch. So, this means, getting all the necessary permits. One of the first things I have to hear is that how ridiculous it is here and that being as Vancouver has invited the world, they should be a little more elastic with their rules. It wasn't this difficult in Beijing.
Really? Imagine that. The Chinese not following the rules. Nothing left to say on this subject.
So, after meeting various people and trying to figure out how this whole thing is going to work, along comes Stu.
Stu is about 25 and a realtor. He has forged an agreement to rent a 2 bedroom apartment to Assistigroup for the Toni Group for $11,000 for the month of February. He thinks he's renting to Casa Italia which as a corporation does not exist. This is also his own personal apartment that he's renting. And it's in North Vancouver. About an hour from the Casa Italia site on a good transit day. With a 6 block uphill walk from the sea-bus terminal. So for you non-Vancouverites, the people staying there would have to take the subway, then a boat, then walk a good 10 minutes uphill. All this after working until midnight. Good luck making the transit connections as Vancouver's transit does not run all night. Completely impractical.
In all fairness to Stu, and this is the only part he gets some fairness, he made this clear however, he's selling to someone from out-of-town who doesn't understand the city's logistics and who never took the time to see the property.
Ok. You now have background.
Stu arrived at Casa Italia to take Alessandro to the apartment (his apartment) where he is supposed to be staying during his time in Vancouver. Alessandro asked me to join him so we could go for dinner afterwards. With us was the lady from Toni Group who's staff was also supposed to be staying in this same apartment.
After a very interesting drive with Stu (he drives worse than Italians) we get to our destination. The apartment is lovely however it is completely inappropriate for their needs. Stu, sensing a problem, starts getting pissy. Well, pissy is being kind. He starts copping a major Tude. I pull him aside and start to explain the clients' concerns. Tude gets larger. I then tell him to get the Tude in check as it's not professional. Stu is now not listening to anything as the Tude has obviously impaired his hearing. He now starts behaving like the 25 year old spoiled brat that he is.
Well, it's all downhill from there. Stu, only has a verbal agreement with a rep from Assistigroup. He desperately wants someone to sign the contract but the person with us doesn't have the authorization to do so nor will she as the place does not meet their needs. Stu gets even more childlike. I am trying to get him to behave professionally and chill. But Stu just grabs the shovel and starts digging the hole that he will never be able to emerge from.
Like an episode of the Jersey Shore, Stu calls us names, and kicks us out of his apartment. Very dramatically by the way. I tell him that he is behaving unprofessionally and that he will not have success as a realtor if he doesn't change his behavior. I am told (by Stu) that he is already successful.
Right
So, down the hill we walk, to the seabus, then the skytrain to the Moda hotel where we found accomodation for poor Alessandro (who still has his suitcase in tow). Accomodations are still to be determined for the select Casa Italia staff but there was a 2 bedroom apartment available 2 blocks away from the Casa Italia site for $8,000 for the month. A bargain compared to Stu's offering and in contradiction to Stu's claims of not being able to find any other accomodation in the city at this late date.
This accomodation drama is yet from over. I was happy to have been there, as were my new Italian friends. They got to let me handle Stu (which I was told I handled more tactfully than they would have) and Stu can't claim that he didn't understand what the concerns were.
And I finally got something worthy to blog about.
Stay tuned.
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