Here's a toast to the Classy

This past week has been a real test of my patience, energy, and understanding. I currently work at a local, Irish pub as a server/bartender/party host/trainer/and occasional decorator. In the past two weeks, we have lost two full time employees and one fellow was out for a week due to an injury. We are a locally owned business, without many employees, so losing three full-time employees for a week took a toll on my body, work schedule, and life.

I worked 9 straight days. I was supposed to go 13 days without a break, but a wonderful woman decided to take over one of my

days, because her trip was cut short. So here I am. Recovering.. and typing.

I've had a lot of time to think about my current schedule, my job search, and the nature of my current job. Some people may look at my life and say, wow, she has it so easy. Which, it is true. I work 40-50 hours a week- make more per hour than most people right out of college, - and get to meet amazing people at the same time. It's true. If I were to find the kind of job I am searching for now, I would more than likely take a small pay-cut (but I would have more hours in the week to live a life). No matter how amazing the people are that I meet.. it is a reality that I do not have any sort of reliance in that job. I cannot get injured, sick, or take a vacation without it directly impacting my income in a huge way.

Back to the patience thing. This week I ran across a few people upon which I immediately thought to myself, "now that is one classy person". For giggles, I'll fill you in on these experiences-- most of which happened on Fourth of July (a crazy night at J.Murphys):

1. I am fairly busy. I'm listening for drink orders from behind the bar and a man orders a round. I make them, look up to start his tab, when I realize he just knocked over another mans drink. Not too terribly unusual.. Until I took in the entire scene. His shirt was bloody. Really, really, bloody. I look up and he has a huge bandage over his chin. He blew up some of his chin from the fireworks and had his neighbor (gasp!!!) put stitches in. I don't know about you.. but the last time I blew up my chin the FIRST thing I want to do was go to a bar and continue drinking and bleeding. Seriously, give me a break. I kicked him out. What a classy man.

2. I was cussed at in front of all my bar guest by a "regular". He said very perverse things to me, hollered to others to never come in there again.. and proceeded to question my intelligence. Thank God my grandfather taught me a little about patience.. I wanted to pull out my mad street fighting skills. In my head this was happening, but in reality....I pointed at the door, and made him leave. Again, a classy man.

3. I find it HILARIOUS when a (not to stereotype-- well, actually I will) white, balding man orders a Curs Light. Come on man. I always take it a little too far when I hand 'him' the beer-- and over-pronunciate the word Coors.

But, as much as I complain about my job.. I love it in a small, bizarre way. I really want to thank my Grandpa. He is, to this day, my best friend. When I am having a tough day at work.. I think about the quiet way

he lived.. living by example, living with love.. and living with patience (although he was the biggest worrier I've ever known). So, here's to him. Here is to all the times I am dealing with Classy and I let him guide me through my next step. Whether in my current job, my life, or my job search. Thanks G-pa!!