I HAVE CONFIDENCE IN ME!

Sunday afternoon was glorious.  It was a beautiful spring day, despite being in the middle of winter, and I sat reading for an hour.  An hour was all I had because once the sun had left the patio, the realisation that we were still, technically, in winter, set in.  It became cool, and the wind was no longer the welcome breeze, but had a bitter tone that would make a child weep.  

I was happy to return to my house, and get ready for a night out!  When I say 'a night out', I do not mean bopping at a concert, or even an intimate party, but quite simply dinner with the family!  We had been planning a late Christmas dinner, as ours was spent in a hospital room.  Fun as our festive dinner was, and as delicious as it tasted, there were obvious restrictions, one of them being adequate seating and a menu from which to choose!  It was a nice change, and we were home long before most people started to head out!

Our 'office' party was Monday.  We do not have an 'office' party, usually, but again, the fact that we could not, whether it is the norm or otherwise, became a thing, and we headed out to the Brazilian Steakhouse.  Whilst extravagant, our local place has a 'special'.  The price is reduced quite drastically, and the offer of 'free dessert' is rather appealing, although we always end up taking it home, as the feast beforehand is always a little overwhelming.  

As mentioned, my confidence levels have returned to a near maximum load, and I have found myself being perhaps a little 'aggressive' in my attitude, albeit in a nice way.  A 'Mary Poppins' quality of 'firm but kind', and definitely practically perfect in every way!  

I stood at the extensive salad bar, picking strawberries out of the spinach salad, as requested by my daughter, for the baby, and a young girl moved up next to me.  She had the most amazing bright red, glittery, almost thigh high boots.  I could not resist a comment.  "Love the boots!" I exclaimed.  She stepped back, horrified.  What had I said that was offensive.  "Your boots.  They are amazing", came the comment that attempted to smooth things over.  She looked at her partner, who shook his head in confusion.  It was then that I realised, she probably did not speak English.  I was reminded of the time I spoke French to my daughters 'exchange' student, offering to put her clothes in the washing machine, when in fact, I suggested I gave her a bath! Rather than let sleeping dogs lie, which probably would have been the more sensible option, I smiled, pointed to the boots, and made a circle with my thumb and forefinger.  Her partner said, "Ah" and nodded.  She still looked frightened. "Perfect, no!" he stated.  "Si, perfect!" I responded.  She gave a slight smile which was more of a sneer, and continued to walk the line!  Paying more attention to her appearance, and her phone, during their dinner, I understood that the comment from an old woman was probably more of an insult than compliment!  

The bill arrived, and my husband checked the total.  I asked what it was and he told me, "Not including tip", he said.  I looked and saw that a 20% charge had been added for a 'large' party.  Five people and a baby was not really 'large' in my opinion, but technically, one could presume we were six, as the high chair does take up an extra space.  However, the calculations seemed a little off.  I could not make out how they arrived at the figure for the percentage.  Whilst not unwilling to tip the extremely attentive wait staff, I was curious.  "It is added before the discount", said the waiter, very precise in his explanation.  Perhaps having the extra confidence is not such a good thing.  I dove into action!  "What discount?"  He pointed to the bill, which had the usual price of the meal, plus the desserts, and then the figure taken off.  "Those", he offered.  "They are not really discounts, are they?" I started.  "Your Monday night price is a set price, and you offer free dessert, so a discount does not apply.  If you advertise, 'discounted price, with discount for dessert', then it is a discount.  However, you don't."  My husband looked at the man who was just about to call over a manager and said, "It's okay.  Your staff are good. We will pay it".  Relief spread over the face of the offended.  "I don't object", I continued, "But it is a little dishonest."  I did not dispute it further, but felt that there could have been grounds.  Of course, a gratuity is optional, despite some people not understanding this.  If you do not get 'service' you are not obliged to pay for it.  In fact, a gratuity is an offering of 'gratitude' for something given that deserves recognition.  Now I am really going over the top!

We returned home with dessert in a box!  My weekly evening meals would not be a difficult task, as I had left overs from Sunday, and Wednesday night always leaves 'seconds' for Thursday.  We also had dessert catered!  Of course dessert is always a 'gratuity', not always given!

I headed to get my nails 'seen to' on Wednesday, but had to make a stop at the Post Office first.  It seemed a good idea at the time.  I left a little early and arrived at five past the hour.  The shutters were still down.  More people arrived, and the queue became quite long.  "What time is it meant to open?" asked one customer.  "This is the worst post office in town", stated another.  A young man came up to the window, and pressed the buzzer.  An employee opened the hatch door, and attended to the said gent.  "Is someone going to open?" asked a customer.  "Yes", said the employee and promptly shut the door.  Silence ensued.  Someone else pressed the buzzer and the same employee opened the hatch.  "What time are you opening?" asked another customer.  "When they can", came the response.  The employee returned a couple of minutes later, with a package for the man who had pressed the buzzer.  "Do you know when someone will open up?" said a customer.  "We are short of clerks.  They will be ready when they are ready"  I held my peace!  I wanted to say, "If only one person is here to open at the said time, then they should be there in time to open.  Even if it is only one person!"  I held my peace!

I left after waiting for twenty minutes, and headed across town.  Michele was going to be late.  I asked her if there was a post office nearby.  "By Michaels", she responded.  "?" I sent back. "East of there", she responded.  "?" I sent back.  "Whataburger" she responded.  I knew where she meant.  I headed across the road and eventually found the facility tucked away in the corner.  A woman shuffled out from the back and asked if she could help.  I gave her my package and asked if I could buy some stamps.  "I need some priorities too", I said.  For those who do not know the USA postal system, a 'priority' mail envelope is a letter sized card receptacle, that comes with a slogan, 'if it fits, it ships', and requires a stamp for a specific amount with the promise of 'priority' service.  When there are no inclement weather conditions, this has a promise of two days, sometimes next day delivery.  However, those who work for the USA postal system should be aware of this 'stamp'.  "I need some priorities too", I said.  "Huh?" said the oblivious clerk.  "Stamps", said I, and pointed to that which was on the package she had just processed.  "Let me ask", she said, and called to her manager.  "Dunno?  What?  We have postcards?" she offered.  "No", said the original clerk, sounding quite authoritative on the subject.  "Like this", she said, pointing to the stamp on the package.  "Aint never seen that", said the manager, and started to sift through a package of stamps.  "Here they are!" announced the clerk, and came back with a sample, rather than the stack I required.  I took what they had.  "You need to put those on your order", said the clerk to her boss.  "What are they?" said the manager.  I left wondering; How?

Nails polished, I raced back and continued working.  Another long day came to an end, and I headed home to eat left overs, and dessert!

We enjoyed chicken with a lemon and balsamic reduction on Wednesday.  Basically chicken with a sauce!  When did a sauce become a something other than a sauce?  Probably when shampoo and conditioner became 'product'!  A 'product' is something produced! A specific item has a name!  Putting 'product' on my hair, could mean anything!  There I go again, asserting my confidence in trying to get others to say what they mean!  In trouble I may get, but how much is the question!

I was glad to see the end of the week as it had been quite grueling, despite the lack of 'extra-curricular' in the kitchen!  Contests were entered, work was completed, nights out were taken.   Busy can equate to exhausting, no matter what form 'busy' takes!  I was not exhausted, just ready for some 'me' time.

Super bowl Sunday is upon us, and we do not have a 'dog in the hunt'.  Perhaps I will shout at the television, but one does not really need confidence for that!

I toned down my attitude towards the end of the week, although I was a little stern with my mechanic, or at least the young lad who answered the phone, and probably wished he had not, but all that will have to be explained, and remains for .......... another story!