– A bee can only count to fifteen. I can count up to 30 though.
– Do bees in a hurry travel in a zip line?
Man, forget it. I’m so sorry ha ha. Here’s something I drew at work not knowing it was Pride Week in Halifax. Happy Pride Week Halifax!
Just once I’d love to see a corporate entity be openly disgusted with failing to meet their goal for a charity drive. Imagine going on a bus and seeing an ad for a fast food company with a picture of some sad children and something along the lines of: “Whelp, we only raised $5,000 for ________ last year. What a waste of time and effort.”
I was walking around downtown one day while wondering how to advance my career as a foot model. My problem is that I wasn’t getting anywhere near enough exposure. So I took my shoes and socks off. Problem solved.
Someday I will die a heroic death to save someone. As she holds me in her arms, I will tell her “If you see my wife, tell her that I love her,” to which she will reply “It’s me, I’m right here.” “How convenient,” I will say as I breathe my last.
There was a truck on fire downtown (Photos here.).
Then a suspicious package was called in a short distance away, but when the police checked it out it was just a briefcase (News story here.).
It’s like . . . It’s like Halifax is under attack by terrorists who are really bad at this whole terrorism thing.
Having seen more than my share of both in my time, I’ve recently started pondering the effects of those kinds of uninformed opinions and the effects they have on a person.
Empty praise is the result of good intentions, but as we all know good intentions by themselves rarely ever lead to anything that’s actually . . . Good. Being told that you have a talent that you don’t actually possess can cause you to waste your time pursuing something that you no interest or marketable talent in which could lead to a feeling of a life led running in the wrong direction. However, sometimes some arguably undeserved praise early on in the pursuit of your goal can give you the drive to keep going. Sometimes the key to success is simply being too stupid to know when to give up as the old saying goes.
Baseless criticism is extremely, extremely common. Just post your works onto any online forum made for people to judge works of your medium and you’ll learn the hard way within hours. If that doesn’t effect your self-esteem at least a little bit then you’re a stronger person than I. This sort of thing drives many people away from doing what they love. With that said though if absolutely nobody thinks you have a particular talent that you believe that you have . . . There’s a chance that they may be right.
Personally I pay more attention to my critics than those who praise me. Sure, part of it may be personal insecurities, but sometimes it’s just easier to sift through endless criticisms for something that’s well-written and informative than to ponder who’s praising me because they feel that they should for whatever reason, y’know? Not that I don’t enjoy genuine praise of course!
So here’s the setup: Basically I was underemployed going on unemployed. I had three jobs, but two of them ended due to seasonal issues (Yay for my Travel and Tourism degree! >_>) and the third was a mere 12-16 hours a week. Since I was nowhere near making my bills I put in my notice so I could job-search full time.
Right off the bat I applied for and was hired on full time for a dishwashing position at an Indian food restaurant. A more tactful person would probably leave the name of it out but fuck it the place was the Taj Mahal in Halifax close to the Westin Hotel. I was to work five evenings a week, 8 hours a night. The pay was bad but that was to be expected really. The owner of the place mentioned that he had a lot of people take the job and leave after a single shift. He said so in a bragging manner. That should’ve set off some red flags but I was too busy being relieved that I finally had full time work for the first time in half a year.
Showing up for my first shift I could only find a single server who was getting ready for the evening. It took me awhile to find him even after walking around both levels of the restaurant. The upper level had a small room behind the bar with a small mattress with pillows and sheets. Weird.
After meeting the gentleman who was setting up, he led me to one of two kitchens that I would be cleaning. One of the two kitchens that I would be expected to keep clean. By myself. On separate floors with no way to move between them without moving through the dining areas. Oh jeez.
There was a mess but they were short-staffed with regards to dishwashers before I was hired so I was ready for that. Then the cooks came in. I like to think I don’t generally have a problem with cultural/language differences and the like but when you need to work directly with a staff being able to communicate with people would be pretty neat.
It was about this time that I realized that the dish pit was nowhere near as warm as it should be. Asking one of the servers I learned that the hot water tank for the building is extremely small/poorly made and it runs out quickly. So basically I was expected to sanitize everything with cold water. Awesome.
Now I will say this: The cooking was good at being stereotypically Indian. Unfortunately so were the hygienic practices of the people preparing it (Note: I’m not saying that stereotypes are true outside outside of this one specific incident!). At this point I couldn’t help but notice that the entire side of one of the fridges was covered in Food Safety Regulation notices.
The other dishwasher employee came in later to check up on me. I won’t get too much into it but basically the only person I could communicate with in the entire kitchen was a little . . . Off-kilter. When I asked him how I was supposed to sanitize anything while pressed for time with no hot water he responded by hastily scrubbing a few pans by hand and tossing them aside.
Falling behind and disgusted with the poor sanitation of the place I walked off before the end of my shift, crossing off all of my shifts on the wall and writing on it that I quit. Depressed and feeling like a failure in life I began the walk/bus ride home.
Walking down the sidewalk with my head hung something caught the corner of my eye. Looking up I saw what was the most oddly inspiring thing I had ever seen in my life.
An older man was standing outside of a cafe with an electric guitar. He had headphones plugged into it and was calmly playing it, cigar(ette?) dangling out of his mouth as gentle snowflakes fell down in a poetic manner. He just looked so . . . Peaceful. Like he was doing what he truly wanted to do and nothing else.
It made one of the worst nights of my life slightly less shitty.
P.S. I never did get paid for the hours I worked there.
P.S.S: The place burned down sometime in late ’09/early ’10 if memory serves me correctly. Hopefully in rebuilding they at least fixed the hot water thing.
Adam sent me this picture of his dog. I’ll let it speak for itself ha ha. Thanks man!