Ugh, ita, that sucks.
1. Know what you want before the bartender approaches you. If it's slow, and/or you have a couple questions about the menu or beers, no prob. But if it's packed and/or you have to ask your entire group if they all want Miller Lite, thereby wasting the bartender's time? No love for you.
The flip side: provide me some way, other than peering 40 feet down a dimly lit bar and trying to decipher taps, to know what you have, and then I won't bug you so much with the "do you have Stella? No? Sierra? No? What about..."
provide me some way, other than peering 40 feet down a dimly lit bar and trying to decipher taps, to know what you have, and then I won't bug you so much
Oooh, seriously!!! Especially here in Seattle, where they're all big with having schmancy brews on tap, so it's not like you can look at the taps and autorecognize. And since some of the stuff on tap may be GOOD, you dont' want to assume you have to go with liquor or a bottle. Though when they put a line of dusty bottles three shelves up, and I'm supposed to figure out what beer they have in bottles in the dark, from that? Just as annoying.
Crosses "Large Animal Veterinarian" off of list of career aspirations.
That's what my daughter aspires to. My son wants to be an Engineer/Rock Star.
Honestly, that's how I started drinking Bud, when I lived in Atlanta. We did a lot of bar hopping and I got so over trying to order decent beer and having to have that same freaking conversation with the bartender everywhere you went.
I'm sorry, ita.
Also in the "impatient with offspring" camp. Annabel has reached the stage where things seem very logical to her. Then, when we don't go along with her carefully studied and well-reasoned arguments, MELTDOWN!
One this week was when she didn't want to get out of her bath until she'd finished telling a story using various bath toys as props. At first I was OK, because I love it when she tells stories. But then she reached a point of obvious conclusion, and you could just SEE the wheels spinning in her brain, that if she stopped there with the happily ever after, she'd have to get out of the bath and get ready for bed. So she rummaged through the unassigned toys, pulled out a pink My Little Pony, and said, "And then...and then the knight met a PRINCESS."
Me: No. Bedtime.
Her: But I'm not DONE YET. I didn't say THE END. You have to let me say THE END, Mommy!
Me: No, you're stalling.
Her: I have to say THE END!
Me: Mommy likes long sagas and stories with sequels, too, but she doesn't get to stay up and finish her stories every night, either. That's the way it is. You're just going to have to say TO BE CONTINUED.
Her: Waaaaaahhhhh!!! Mommy didn't let me say THE ENDDDD!!!!!
It's funny now...
And it will be much, much funnier when you are telling the story to her friends in 10-15 years time.
I am so sorry, ita. I hop they find the money.
Getting Owen ready for school today was a battle royale. Over pants. He didn't want to wear the jeans I gave him but he woulldn't pick out an alternate pair. He just stood there and screamed "NOOOO!" in my face for about five minutes. He finally relented and picked out a pair of soft cordoroys he likes but sheesh. I couldn't figure out where the communication breakdown was occurring.
I've had mornings like that. Nowadays, the sibling bickering is the thing that drives me nuts.
It's very irritating about the job. At least I know in advance, I guess. But it makes financial decisions very weird for the next little while. A krav guy has an IT startup that just got some funding that I might look at, but even in good health I'd rather not embark on a job hunt.
I'd love it if they found the $$ to make this one stick. It's so nearby! They already know my foibles! They had intended to keep me on, so at least I wasn't hallucinating that. I was wondering how I could have flaked on something so big. The budget restrictions are fairly recent.
