Oh my darlin’
Oh my darlin’
Oh my darlin’ Clementine!!

Whenever singing the above lyrics please add extreme southern accent and air banjo. There is a guy at work who I have seen around town, who is known by the wait staff as the whistler. He is tall and lanky and has bright red hair. He looks to be in his early fifties and has a beard and mustache. He is our dishwasher. He churns better than the other two who do the job, but he doesn’t really say two bits to anyone except the owner. The only thing I can figure is that at work he must be dry. Mostly in Helen, he is known as a “town drunk.” There are quite a few in Helen. Both he and his wife are known for their antics. It is quite entertaining. Anyway, he whistles the entire time he is at work. He isn’t repetitive either. It is like a cd player stuck on Steven Foster and old American hymns. It is funny because I know all of the songs he whistles and the wait staff mostly just roles their eyes. He doesn’t really exist with out his whistle though. I think that if he stopped whistling, I’d never know he was there.

Last night at work they trained me on the register for host. The girl who was supposed to train me ended up almost going to the hospital because of her nose bleeds: yes more than one. I love the restaurant industry, it has great drama. I was trained by an owner who was awesome. She has such a laid back persona. It was an easy enough task. Once she showed me how the thing worked and realized that I was good to go, she went on about her merry way, which is good because I got good practice. I wait tonight and tomorrow night. I figure these are good nights because it means that I will make more than just a couple of bucks. I wonder too if I get one of those miniature pay checks that come with waiting tables. I have gotten checks from a restaurant before for zero dollars, but they have to print them because they take taxes out on us.

We are having our “birthday dinner/thanksgiving dinner” today here at work. It is crazy. There are two people having birthdays and then we have a turkey and are drawing names for secret Santa to boot. We are supposed to spend only ten dollars on our Secret Santa’s gift, but that is impossible these days unless you get them a candle or socks. What’s the point? When I give, I give big. I hope I can give to someone I know. We have hired so many new people that I don’t have the slightest idea who some folks are. Some one asked me if I would make the dressing for the turkey…yeah, right. I can’t cook! I looked at them and asked them what dressing was. The surprise reaction on their face was totally worth it.

We also had pictures made today. They took mug shots on a digital camera to put on the front of our Christmas cards to mail out to all the doctors we serve. Our heads are to be ornaments on a Christmas tree. Can you imagine: fifty mug shots on the Christmas tree going to Emory doctors? What a joke. Those doctors will laugh their hind ends off. At least the shots will be so small no one can tell who they really are. Oh, I really hope that there are some serious possibilities at my interview on Monday. CBS. I have an interview with CBS. That is so cool.