Finest Pain. Ow.

I'm coming up with post titles by reading random things again. It actually says FINEST PAIN AU CHOCOLAT... and has, as these things often do(n't?) nothing to do with anything.

So...

The London Riots
were stupid. They seem to be over now and there is, of course, a lot of talk about what caused them. They started after Mark Duggan, a 29-year-old father of three, was shot dead by police in Tottenham. I'm not sure if this was a botched arrest or what, but what followed was a candle-light vigil two days later. The participants of that vigil marched toward the Tottenham police station. And after that, the explanation is that it "turned violent" or that "violence erupted".

The vigil makes sense. Yes, by all means, if you think a powerful group of people, especially your own government, has done something wrong, protest. By all means, be imposing, get in their way, show them how many people think what they've done is wrong, are willing to fight for justice - but how the hell does setting people's homes/cars/businesses on fire achieve anything?

And, of course, now there are people blaming the government cuts and unemployment and the rising cost-of-living and poor parenting and anything they can think of other than the little bastards that seized the opportunity to get free shit and light stuff on fire. Yeah. The government is oppressing me and treating me unfairly. Society has turned its back on me. I'm going to go steal some trainers and mug an old lady.

Waitressing
sucks, but it's getting better. I feel like I never know where I'm supposed to be. I keep getting told different things by different people and if I ask a question, a lot of the time, whoever I asked gives me a dirty look then just does what I'm supposed to be doing. Actually, a lot of the time, I literally don't know where I'm supposed to be because I now have three restaurants to work in and all my rota says is when I'm working, not where.

I really like the chefs and the kitchen porter guys. I remember a kind of rivalry between the wait staff and the kitchen staff at the last kitchen I worked in, and I'm pretty sure it had something to do with the wait staff treating us like trash. I try not to do that, to make sure I say please and thank you, regardless of how busy I am, and not to make a huge mess with the dirty dishes.

All whining aside, I'm starting to get the hang of it, I think. Today was pretty ok.

Bad Parenting
annoys me. I have a table of regulars with this kid. The youngest he could possibly be is 8 and that's an over-sized, over-developed (physically) 8. My guess would be that he's 10-11, although, physically, he could be 12-13. But let's, just to give him the benefit of the doubt, say he's 8. I've served his family three times now. He has eaten only pork (I mean only) on all three occasions. One time, he got paid to finish his "meal". He's rude and needs to be the centre of attention - but he's 8, so I guess we can make allowances - except, I've seen him punch his grandmother in the back twice (as in on two occasions, two punches per time), once because he ignored being asked for his order and she pointed out that this was rude and once, I think, just for fun - although he asked for money after this, so maybe for money? And his mother sat there and said nothing, pretended not to see. His grandfather sat there and said nothing. His older brother shot me an apologetic look, as if to say, Yeah, I know, but what can you do. I can't even imagine what would have happened if I had behaved this way - and I won't say at his age. I mean, at all. Ever. Well, yes I can. If I had been two and hit my grandmother, I would be sent to my room. If no room was available, to the car (for years, I didn't realize that my parents actually were stood near by, watching said car) and I would have stayed there until I was ready to apologise. Violence begets violence, I guess, because now I really want to punch this kid in his face.

Someone
is having a BBQ. I so want it.