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A few years ago I ended up in a conversation with an Eat and Park waitress in Banksville road.  She said, “Man, this job is really stressful.”. 

I said, “How long have you been a server here?”

“28 years”.

I said, “You should have it down to a science by now.”.

“I do, but they just changed the menu.”

“What changed?” I asked.

“Well they just changed the steak and eggs breakfast.  It used to be a small T-Bone steak and a two eggs.   It’s now a burger patty and two eggs.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad”, I responded.

“Yeah, but the customers are expecting a steak and they get a burger, then they start bitching up a storm!’

I said, “Uh – when they order it, why don’t you tell ‘em about the change before you put the order in.  Then, they have a chance to change it before they start complaining’.

“Huh.  That’s a good idea”.

My daughter spent a large portion of her teenage years playing on high class soccer teams (read “Expensive”).

We were on the lower end of the teams socioeconomic spectrum. There were architects, podiatrists, thoracic surgeons, dermatologists, miscellaneous flavors of captains of industry and at least four college professors. And then there was us – Yunzers!

Those of you who know me know that I have a head full of odd trivia, awkward history, and a bullet proof sense of humor.

I got into a conversation with one of the professor dads. Turns out he taught French literature at a large nationally known division one university. I said, “The only French novel I recall reading is Nana by Emile Zola.”

In an astonished voice, he blurted out, “You’ve read Nana?”

“Yes. Twice actually. Once in college and once about 8 years ago.”.

“What did you think of it”, he asked.

“Well, It was a rags to riches story of the underbelly of late 17th century French society with a terribly tragic end. I also think that Dan Brown used Nana as a prototype for his American southern gothic novel ‘Fay’.”

He said, “That’s quite astute”.

I said, “Thanks, I’m trying to become a genius”.

He said, “Interesting. I need to ask – What objective criteria are you relying on to measure your progress toward being a genius?”

I said, “I was kidding,” and walked away.

Living in the same neighborhood forever does have some advantages. 

About 8 years ago, I was giving my daughter a driving lesson.  She was driving;  I was riding shotgun.  As we left our subdivision, we approached a T.  I’ll admit that It’s not like she was making a left onto a major interstate, but she was making a left onto a road that is a fairly busy thoroughfare through our part of town. 

At this T, the traffic to the left had a stop sign. The traffic to the right was coming up a hill and did not have a stop sign.

She looked both ways and said, “I’m gonna pull out now.”

I said, “No.  Wait. This guy coming up the hill is drunk as Hell.  He’s gonna make a left and come right past you.  Sit still and let him make his way around you.”

The white Dodge pick up make a left and came just past her window.

All was good and she made her left.

In about 30 seconds we came to a red light.  As we sat at the light she said, “Dad, I want to be a good driver.”

I said, “That’s good, Honey.   That makes me Happy”.

She said, “No, Dad, I want to be a good driver!”

I said, “That’s great, kid.  You’ll be a fine driver.”

She said, “Then, you need to teach me what you know about driving!”

I said, “I am teaching you what I know.

“No you’re not”

“Yes I am”

“You’re not”

“Hey, what am I not teaching you?”

“That guy back there.  I need to know how you knew he was drunk so that I can tell who is drunk while I’m driving.”

I said, “His name was Ned.  He drinks all day every day.  He’s always drunk.”

The light changed and she pulled out.

My Brother Joe and I returned to the hotel room in New Columbia, PA. We had had a beer or two during dinner. We may have had a beer or two after, but it’s tough to remember. First, It was 30 years ago, and that was a time when beer wasn’t available in grocery stores and gas stations. Moreover, we were in Central PA where there never was (and still isn’t) enough bars to go around. They seem to be secretly proud of that.
Joe say, “We should see if that bar in the lobby is open.”.
We walk into the lobby bar and find the only customers there are two brothers of Hungarian descent who happen to be our Uncle Joe and Uncle Bill. It was apparent that they were a few drinks ahead.
I said, “I’ll by the first one”.
Brother Joe said, “Hold on – you ain’t paying for shit!”
The four of us had rounds of beers. We had rounds of shots. We had rounds of shots and beers.
Uncle Bill stood up and said, “I’m heading back to my room.”.
Then there were three.
Uncle Joe announced that he had recently had a birthday and that he was seventy.
We had beers. We had shots. We had shots and beers. Lather, rinse, repeat.
The bartender walked over and said to me, “I know you’re getting married tomorrow, but it’s way past closing time. I’m sorry. She handed us a six pack and we headed back to our room.
The three of us walked into the men’s room. We’re all lined up. Brother Joe says, “Man, I’ve had too much”. Uncle Joe says, “What, you young guys having problems?”
Brother Joe and I staggered back to our rooms with Uncle Joe walking steadily behind us and consistently pointing out our inability to hold our liquor.
The next morning Brother Joe and I drag our sorry asses out of bed. We’re heavily hung over and in need of heavy fuel. The Hotel had a restaurant attached to it. It was a Bonanza (It’s still a Bonanza 30 years later). We walk into Bonanza and our family from both sides is in there having breakfast. They all look at us like something the cat dragged in. Uncle Bill and Uncle Joe are sitting in a booth happily launching insults as we walk by, “You young guys feeling a little rough today?” “Happen to have an aspirin?” “A little trouble keeping up?”
Brother Joe and I knew we were outmatched. We averted our eyes and shuffled along.

Unclepittsburgh.com

Moonlight Express in The Strip is the home of what is possibly the finest egg roll in the city. It’s also possibly the great grand-pappy of Pittsburgh food trucks. I remember it being parked between Hillman Library and CMU.

Anyway, they served fantastic egg rolls then, and they serve fantastic egg rolls now.

And, No. I don’t think this food truck runs anymore, but it is permanently located in a vacant lot in the Strip District between Parma Sausage and the old Feinsteins.

If you’re in the city, just go. You’ll be happy.

I think it was George Carlin who said, “You can pick your friends, you can pick your nose, but you can’t pick your friends nose.

Invariably, that quote always sends me back to the fifth grade.  There was some kid.  No, I don’t recall his name. He was a grade or two behind me.   Anyway, everyday after lunch, regardless of the weather, they’d send us outside for recess.

Recess took place in a fairly large asphalt parking lot. About once a week, this kid would pick a big ol’ juicy booger out of his nose, and place it on the tip of his right index finger.  He’d then approach a group of unsuspecting kids – normally a group of girls – and threaten to touch them with his booger.

The target group would then scream, squeal, and run, and he’d chase them around the parking lot.  He’d have the brightest eyes and the biggest smile while this went on.

Even at the tender and awkward age of 10, I realized that was an awful way to impress a chick.

I’ve been thinking about this booger-fingered kid for a whole lot of years.   It struck me that, if at my age, someone threatened to touch me with a booger, I’d probably squeal and run too – and I’m a grown ass man!

That got me to thinking; I’m betting a person, if they really wanted to, could go on a weaponless crime spree.  Hear me out – In place of a weapon, you could use a booger on your index finger.  Seriously.  Picture it.  You could storm into a gas station, pick a huge juicy booger out of your nose, plant it on the tip of your index finger, and BAM – You’re good to go.

How?  Threaten to touch the clerk with the booger.  I mean, “Hey – Empty out that cash drawer into this bag or I’ll touch you with this booger!”. You may have to point the booger like a gun, and take a step or two toward the clerk, but the money is gonna be put in the bag.

If the manager causes any problems, you could grab him from behind, with his neck in the crook of your left elbow. Your right finger (with the booger) would be pointed at his cheek like a gun. Then, you could announce to the entire store, “If anyone wants to try and be a hero, I’ll wipe this booger on this guy’s cheek!”

So, after the deed is done, you can run out the door, flick the booger into the parking lot, jump on the 61C bus, and ride off into the sunset.

The best part is when the cops show up.   The cop will ask the clerk, “So, what did this guy look like?”

The clerk will say “He was about 40 years old, 6 feet tall, white, and about 200 pounds.”

“What did he get away with?”

“About $1,200 bucks.”

“What kind of gun did he have?”

“Uh.. he didn’t’ have a gun”

“What kid of knife did he have?”

“Uh, he didn’t have a knife.”

“Club?”

“No.”

“Stick?”

“No.”

“Well, what did he have?”

“He had a booger.”.

“A Booger?”

“Yeah. A booger.  A booger on his right index finger.”

“A booger?!?!?!?”

“Yeah, he threatened to wipe his booger on us.”

“No more questions.”

I’ve spent 30 years in a whacky industry that is out of the public eye. No one goes to college to major in it.  It’s an odd business, and  it’s cyclically tied into the interest rate.  Every few years people spin in or spin out based on either their best offer or the whim of leadership.

So,  I’ve worked in a lot of places with a lot of bosses.  Some of those bosses have been good.  Some have been mediocre.  A whole lot of those bosses have been terrible, but the King of terrible goes to my last boss. Here’s the clinching story:

It was late on a Friday.  She clomps up to my desk in her cheap shoes, bad hair, and stretch marks and says, “I need you to put together a quick bullet pointed list of requirements for <InsertBusinessTaskHere>.

I said, “I’m sorry, but I can’t do that because I’m not an expert in that area of the business.  Moreover, the business leaders of that department are at an all day conference, however I’ll be glad to pick that up first thing Monday morning.

She said, “I need it today.  Why don’t you bring your laptop to my office.  I’ll dictate the requirements to you and you can write them down.

I silently thought, “Uh, you could just type the damned things yourself.”, but I dutifully grabbed my laptop and headed to her office.

For about a half hour she rattled on, and I typed on. For everything she said, I asked clarification questions to make sure I was getting it right.  And the lines I wrote, I read back to her to make sure I had gotten them right.

I was in the office until nearly 8PM that Friday formatting the document, filling in boiler plates of the template, putting on a cover page, and making it look nice.  I emailed it to her and put a printed copy on her desk.

Fast forward to Monday.  I arrive at my desk at 7AM as usual.  About 10 AM I hear the familiar stomping of her cheap shoes heading toward my desk.  When she arrived at my desk, she announced her presence by slamming the copy I printed for her down on my desk;   She then bellowed, “WHERE THE HELL DID YOU GET THESE REQUIREMENTS!”

I said, “Uh, from you?”

She said, “No you didn’t, I didn’t say any of this to you!”.

I said, “Uh, so where else would I have gotten it from?”

She snarled, “I don’t know, but this is entirely unprofessional and unacceptable!”.

I said, “Well, my apologies.  Tell me what I need to update, and I’ll be glad to make the changes,”.

The look in her eye grew joyous as she said, “You mean to tell me you don’t know what you missed?”

I said, “That document is damned near word for word what you said. I confirmed each statement you made with you at the time, so, if I missed something, it’s probably something you didn’t’ tell me.”

She spun around and walked away.  Over her shoulder she said, “Be sure to have the corrections on my desk ASAP.”

I said, “Uh, I’ll be glad to fix it, but you need to tell me what needs to be fixed, because you’re the one who dictated it to me.”

She said, “If you don’t know what you did wrong, it’s your problem, not mine!”, and continued to walk out of the office.