[26 – 28] Ex & Work

Bob Seger – Night Moves.

At around the time I left school, I met Ex. We talked online for a few months, which was fun since she is a college-trained debater, so she was capable of having a decent conversation. I doubted the longterm viability of our relationship, but we had good conversation, and openly discussed the possibility of it not working out, so I gave it a shot.

We had a hell of allot of fun throughout our relationship, but she was, frankly, not as smart or mature as me. But, while she couldn’t match me intellectually, we nevertheless shared a variety of interests, and she had more sense than most. We had to separate, as her immaturity consistently generated unnecessary problems, but I was nevertheless happier with her than I am now [1/31/17].

While she couldn’t completely satisfying me intellectually and emotionally, she was decent, and we had allot of fun. Some of my best gaming memories are with her – video games, board and card games, and even a round or three of D&D I was involved in; she was genuinely fun to play with, and our strategic styles synced well. We’d also cook together, philosophize in general, and her sex drive was nearly as strong as mine.

While I’d like to say more for the sake of revealing my nature, there’s a slim chance that some of her friends and family might find this blog, recognize me, and learn more about her than she’d like; accordingly, I’m done with the personal details about her.

Anyway, we got together, I stopped going to school, and moved in with her after a few months. I recall that summer exceedingly fondly. I was volunteering at a Habitat ReStore during the hot breezy days. Aside from that, she and I were both free from any obligation, so we spent all our time playing card and board games, as well as DDO, cooking, and banging like crazy. One of the happier times of my life, and think of it causes me to miss her – warts and all.

At the end of the summer, we moved up to Seattle, for her schooling. We got a lovely little apartment shortly after, and I picked up a job after that. The job was nothing really, except that it led me to make a costly mistake. My boss was a house-flipper of apparent skill; after 4-5 weeks of working for him, I made 4 grand, and learned quite a bit.

We talked, and he made promises of bringing me to the next job. The money was good, and if I could learn from him, I could eventually move onto flipping myself. So, when he said that he’d give me a call in a couple months, for more work, I decided to wait. I called, he said to try again in a month; this kept happening. I didn’t work for 5 months in total, waiting for him. Fuck.

With my cash draining, it was time to get back to work. I decided to avoid construction and take a shot at my childhood dream of cooking, as I dislike the constantly changing job-sites that accompanies construction – and that idiot left a bad taste in my mouth.

The new job was for a “casual fine-dining” restaurant, as a prep-cook. I was proud of my position, as most people start in kitchens as either a dishwasher, or with schooling. I probably got the job because my boss was trying to get the cheapest employee possible, though I was certainly hungry for the position.

Despite being my first cooking job, and it being a highly demanding environment where I learned most of my skills on the fly, I outlasted 6 cooks – I’m not bragging, I’m displaying the idiocy of my boss. He pissed off all the good workers, and coddled the bad; it was somewhat fascinating, though constantly taxing.

Amusingly, he encouraged at least one of his employees to fuck with me – I suspect two; he had to fire both of them. He skimmed 2-3 grand from my wages. He placed ridiculous workloads on me, which others could have easily helped with instead of spending most of their time standing around. He fucked with me specifically because, as well as being an idiot, he was a scumbag; like all scumbags, he hated me for proving that a person didn’t have to be as vile as him.

While I hated the job from the second week in, I needed it, and wanted to give cooking a serious shot, so I stayed six months for the experience; I learned a great deal there, given the nature of the restaurant. The six month mark came, I found a new job, gave that idiot a week’s notice, and moved on.

Though it’s not important, I will mention that one of my coworkers there told a story of having eaten dinner with Tom Waits. He said that, during the dinner, Waits was regularly smoking. It was a nonsmoking restaurant, so a waitress would regularly come by to tell him that he was not to smoke; he would apologize, put out his cigarette, and start smoking again later.

Autobiography +



~ by Louis Naughtic on January 31, 2017.

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