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."
Thursday, March 4, 2010
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
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