It was 5 AM on Black Friday when a 15-year-old memory hit me like a wave of nostalgia. I found myself grinning in the dark, remembering the day I became a manager at Chili's in Waikiki at the ripe age of 30.
They called one day, offering the position. The next day, I showed up dressed to impress. Tracy gave me a whirlwind five-minute rundown, handed me the keys, and boom - I was management. Just as I'd always planned.
My first crisis as manager? A brown sugar shortage. As I stood in line at the food pantry, I noticed this Adonis of a surfer dude. His name was Mercury - fitting for someone so quicksilver charming. We chatted, and when he mentioned job hunting, I realized I might be the exact person he needed to talk to. Within minutes of getting those manager keys, I was basically hiring eye candy.
One thing led to another, and soon we were making out on his studio apartment floor. It wasn't a grand romance - he had a girlfriend back in California and some weird superhero alter-ego fantasy. He was convinced he dressed up in spandex and "hid in the bushes" until an opportunity to fight crime arose. Then some ninja shit was supposed to happen. There were a few like him, in secret, in shadows, a lot like a League if you will.
Mercury even tried to initiate a threesome with a hot bartender - I mean, hardcore, dick out tried. While that particular threesome didn't happen, I did end up in a sort of three-way with her and a HOT Turkish Prince. After she left the next morning, me and the Royal Turk had a Thanksgiving type feast - turkey and stuffing, ya know. Never told her that part.
She bought me flowers the next day to apologize if it bothered me, and that's when we established the "crazy shit when wasted" clause. Five years later, I found out everyone knew and it labeled me quite the sex symbol - still not about the morning though.
I tore my meniscus because of Mercury - skipping to tell a friend about him. Thirty is too old to be skipping over boys, but there I was, on crutches for weeks. Chili's was awesome about working with me through that. After almost a month, I got drunk enough one night to toss the crutches in the ocean when me and that hot Micronesian guy were doing whatever on the beach.
Waikiki in the early 2000s was a hot scene - college-age surfers and military dudes everywhere. I acclimated flawlessly, becoming the go-to guy for straight-curious experiments. Make good friends, have some fun, no strings attached - that was my M.O. I've always been just the guy to help them figure their shit out. And I love it.
It never crossed my mind that my first act as a manager might be seen as unprofessional. But that's the beauty of memories - they glow brighter with time. So here's to 30-year-old me, with your new manager keys and questionable hiring practices. You might not have been the most professional, but you sure knew how to live.
Looking back, I realize this experience shaped my view on management and life. It's funny how things work out - you think you're on one path, and suddenly you're skipping down another, quite literally in my case. But those missteps and adventures? They're what make life rich and worth remembering. And hey, if you're going to have an epiphany about your past, 5 AM on Black Friday seems as good a time as any.
