So, while I still need to work on the finer points and technique of driving a manual car, I think it's safe to say that my skill with Her is pretty good, and perfectly acceptable for everyday driving and then some.
So, late Friday night, I took Her out for a spin in the abandoned Wyeth parking lot by myself, taking sharp turns and screeching the tires and attempting (but, admittedly, failing) to drift well, but doing alright enough. I completely lost track of time. I also completely lost track of the three squad cars (well, two squad cars and one of those SUV's) that moved in on my position.
As the first one approached me, I couldn't help but laugh, and it took a great deal of self control to keep myself from smiling throughout the encounter, knowing that I hadn't really done anything wrong; with a long abandoned pharmaceutical complex on one side and the R5 train on a hill on the other, it was clear that there wasn't a soul (save the cops) for at least a half mile in each direction.
The first officer to approach me had a shaved head, and the very first words out of his mouth as he walked up to my rolled down window were the following:
"Where's your buddy?"
It was immediately and mutually understood that he meant Ericson.
Ericson has developed a reputation with the police. Funny thing is, neither one of us could be prouder.
I conveyed to him that it was just me and Her. The cop looked off into the trees, and shined his light into my back seat, and told me he'd let me off easy if I told him where my buddy was. I repeated that I was by myself. Another officer approached, and the shaven one double-checked with the other to make sure that I was not Ericson. He was noticeably disappointed when the other officer confirmed that I was someone else.
Ericson was the one they were really after. To them, I was little more than a small fry, though it was clear that they were annoyed that there were now two guys who they'd have to worry about fucking around in that parking lot.
They gave me a citation for careless driving, which I really don't care about because the fine is a throwaway and I ought to be able to plead not guilty easily enough, anyway (it all boils down to semantics; a "careless driver" is "any person who drives a vehicle in careless disregard for the safety of persons or property", and in a wide open parking lot in the middle of a an abandoned pharmaceutical complex, it's relatively clear that the safety of nothing, save perhaps me and Her, was compromised).
Eh. But enough about car shit.
Libbie: My forty-year-old boss. For the most part, she's easily the nicest and most easy going superior I've ever had, though she's prone to severe PMS when she can go absolutely apeshit. However, as long as you stay out of her path at these times, you and her are both fine.
Ben: Head manager of the place and Libbie's only superior, who took his job three days after I took mine.
Adam: Head Chef of the country club. Can be terribly sarcastic and vitriolic at times, which doesn't rub well with some of the more sensitive employees, but I get along with him just fine.
Lisa: One of the more sensitive employees. Very emotional, easily stressed and often comments on how she feels like she could cry (but she never does). Nevertheless, is an absolute sweetheart and a pleasure to work with. Is a long-time, close friend of Libbie's, and will often resume the post of her as second in command, filling in on some of her duties when Libbie isn't around. At other times, she's jack of all trades, serving, bartending, whatever. Most of her income comes from a full time job at Starbucks; Lisa took the job in the first place as a favor to Libbie. Also forty, give or take.
Mel(anie): Thirty, even. Also took job as a server as a favor to Libbie (who was desperate for employees). It's worth noting, by the way, that both Mel and Lisa are part time (though Lisa works considerably more), and both take only a few shifts here and there. Has been working there only a few weeks longer than I have. Generally speaking, tries very hard (and very subtly) to weasel her way out of work. Then again, it might not be weaseling; with her kids and whatnot, she probably has the most amount of commitments outside of work, so her avoiding it is quite understandable.
Amy: Thirty-one. Greek. Spent several years in the Middle East, many of which were spent in Lebanon teaching school children English. Began working a few weeks after me. One of the cooler people on the serving staff, in the "I'm so cool, you don't even know I'm cool" sense. For the most part, our shifts coincide perfectly, so she's on almost whenever I am and vice versa.
Christina: Mid-thirties. (Why do I keep listing ages of the women I work with? Perhaps, to explain this entry.) The closest thing the country club has presently to a full-time bartender. (The full-time bartender, Paul, was fired the day I began. The politics behind Paul shall be gotten into another day.) Quiet, calm, and collected. Has been bartending at the club for nine months, so is well aware of the stories of many of the people there and will share them, with a little nudging.
Earlene: Forty-four. Looks like she's twenty-five, easy. Second-in-command Chef, works part-time. Majored in theater and dance, self-taught cook (like Adam, by the way),, acts in small productions and coaches an award-winning and nationally acclaimed inner-city cheerleading squad in her spare time. Pretending to banter and argue with her is jolly good fun, and its a pleasure I've only been able to derive from good actresses (and a pleasure that comes far too rarely). Probably my favorite person there, though all of her time is spent in the kitchen and all of mine is spent outside of it, so we don't cross paths often enough.
Reggie: The dishwasher. As much as I hate to say it, he fits the stereotype of the passively-angry, disgruntled black man under the thumb of "the man" to a T. Nevertheless, he's alright enough.
Curtis: The janitor. Only works mornings to early afternoon, so I don't see him often enough. Very pleasant, and is the kind of guy who's nearly impossible to piss off (or, subsequently, be pissed off by). An avid car enthusiast; his knowledge has been absolutely invaluable this week in helping me out with Her.
Mark/Chris/Dave: A.K.A., "the frat boys." Work weekends, have been there for over a year. All three of them are in the same fraternity (I forget where they go). Dave, incidentally, I have only seen once; he doesn't work that often. Mark's rather quiet, but nice. Chris, who's friends with Mark, apparently, got a bad first impression of me because I was quiet and nice. Go figure. I was basically hired to fill in the voids they couldn't, so we don't cross paths very much.
Michelle: Fourteen daughter of Libbie. Buses tables, and does just about everything (carry bread, clean up/set up stuff, serve drinks, et cetera) but wait tables themselves. Seems to be going through that angry at all the world phase, which certainly isn't helped by the fact that management recently cut back her wage to minimum wage on account of her being fourteen. Subsequently, she probably won't be working there much longer, especially since she's turning fifteen soon and ought to be able to find a job elsewhere.
Daran: Senior, graduating this summer, bartends on the weekends when I don't (or rather, I bartend on weekends when he doesn't; it's all about one's point of view). Supposedly, he was once a server, but he hasn't been for as long as I've been there. Nice guy, lacks Chris's cockiness and is more outspoken than Mark.
And, staff-wise, that's just about everyone.
Have been there for over a month now. When I started off, I was doing 80% serving and 20% bartending, but now it's about 50/50. Libbie absolutely adores me because I do my work and then some; if I have a second, I anticipate what else has to be done and I do it, which, to Libbie, has been a blessing compared to Mel and the Frat Boys who will do the minimum, and often less, if they can get away with it. Eh, that's just how I work; I can't stand studying, but I take a great deal of pride in whatever work I actually have to do and do it without question. Amy has a similar work ethic, which is part of the reason Libbie is scheduling both of us in so much.
Hmmm... well, there are plenty of stories involving work, but I'm le tired and don't feel like getting into them at the moment. Besides, I need to do some work on Her. since she's become my obsession. Having driven her all week, I can safely say that she's just about perfect, except for a couple of minor things which I've been knocking out all week and should have fully knocked out, bit by bit, in the next month or two. Mechanically, she's perfect (though, she rattles at 3000 rpm's; as far as I can tell, though, that's only due to a loose screw somewhere which I haven't been able to locate), and her interior is immaculately well kept. She hugs the road like nobody's business. Her speakers suck and she's just a bit rusty in the exterior, but that's being worked on; in fact, I'm a gonna go do that, now.