Tipping

My favorite tips are the ones that come with business cards. Last night I got $4 and a card from Belliappa Pattada, with an invitation to stop by his Indian food Restaurant any time. Tandoor in Barrio Norte. Not sure if I get a discount, but sounds good. I asked him if he had hummus, but I had to fill an order before I heard his answer. And on Friday night a group of four (rather rowdy) boludos harassed me for a bit until one of them eventually offered me a job. As his secretary. "Where do you work?" When he told me he was a dentist I told him no thanks. Already tried that one time. Not going there. Even if we were clear on the terms, hearing those dental drills would set me off. And I'd lose day time to spend with Annemarie wandering the city and checking things off my list. He gave me his card anyway, in case I need anything. Hopefully in the 26 days left I won't have a dental emergency, but if I do I can call Dr. Martin Giovannangelo.

Last night was fun but busy. Ezequiel was there and I was able to avoid him for the most part (smokers sit in the back; my domain is the front room) but he called me out on being awkward. I am awkward. Get over it. But no, he wants to see me again. I shall have to think of a nice way to say "I'd rather not. Ever." One of doorman Nacho's jujitsu friends from Brazil kept complimenting me. Finally his other friend added, "And he's used to girls from Brazil. They are the most beautiful in the world!" It was flattering, but I still gave him a fake number. After dealing with Ezequiel, or rather, not dealing with him; I don't want to have a repeat. Matt passed out mid-text message on the street, as per usual. Andres saved me from Ezequiel so we could take a picture.
We actually had to kick people out last night at 7:00 am. Con turned off the music and there were still a few people around as we collected our money for the evening. Only $32 in tips. Lousy for a night that crowded. (One man, who admitted he has a girlfriend but asked for my number, told me, "I also work for tips." Cool. We obviously have so much in common! Good line, buddy.) No one in my area wanted a drink; they just wanted to smoke where they're not supposed to. Hint to bar patrons: if the bar is dark, the glowing ember tip of a cigarette is easy to spot. You're still not fooling anyone. Can you please move over ten feet? But eventually things picked up and all of the sudden I needed to carry three litres of Stella Artois and and nine glasses through a packed crowd. The French-Canadian bartender didn't show up again. She was supposed to get there thirty minutes early to learn how to make drinks, since all she did last night was chain smoke and crowd the bar. But she never returned. I suppose it was a good thing.