I was a bartender at Miku, one of Vancouver’s finest Japanese restaurant. ‘Head bartender’ depending on who you ask. Everyone knows this restaurant by name.
We opened in autumn and like every new restaurant, lounge, or club, it’s both stressful and exhilarating. There’s disorganization, chaos, and the bond of building something new an established place can’t replicate.
There were funny times too. One day, Tai, the general manager; Ai, the hostess from Japan; and I went to the liquor store downtown. I was all suited up — tie, long apron — except my ID.
I, the bartender in full costume, was asked to leave.
Everything was new. We put together the tables and chairs imported from Japan. We helped write the menu. We decided how to organize the new cutlery and glasses. The owner and sushi chefs were all from Japan, and I look back fondly on this cultural experience. For the first time in my life, my job felt like a family.
The waitresses decide to do a Secret Santa. It’s decided Miku Restaurant’s first ever Secret Santa is low budget, 10 bucks tops. But I had already decided what to buy:
- A bottle of liquor
- A stuffed animal
My night job paid well so I had a habit of spending money in lieu of time. Therefore, the rule of thumb for everything, from from pens to toothbrushes to shoes to Secret Santa, is: go to store, pick most expensive item, buy it and leave. Relief from decision fatigue.
The liquor depended on the person chosen. Say I get Sam, from a small town in Ontario. She’d get a bottle of Jack Daniels, and a Little Mermaid™ stuffy rocking an AC/DC t-shirt.
My Secret Santa was Lisa, the Japanese/Vietnamese waitress, who reminded me of a manga character. Easy breezy. She bought me a gin & tonic when we hit up Republic one snowy weekend.
Tanqueray had a new gin: “Tanqueray Rangpur Gin”. Distilled with Rangpur lime, makes a great gin & tonic. Done.
Go to the liquor store, find it, line up — am not ID’ed — buy it and leave.
The evening of, I pop into the office in joyful anticipation. A thoughtful gift truly warms the heart. Absent is a gift for me. Lisa’s working the evening shift, and I drop hers off before leaving for my night job.
Every Christmas I baked cookies for my co-workers. They weren't very good and — causation here? — were always done last minute. This year’s cookies were by far the worst.
A sushi chef, Daisuke, tastes one and comments “Not bad.” Riiight.
My present doesn't appear until next week.
I arrive bright and early. Everyone is in the office getting ready for the morning at hand.
General manager, assistant manager, and co-workers there. Everyone is there.
One last present waits, in a big brown envelope, by itself. The gravitational pull is undeniable.
The opening commences.
I love Secret Santa.
The top is torn off. I reach in and pull out —
… two porn magazines.
Ever felt somewhere between 1) shock, 2) hilarity, and 3) embarrassment?
If no, you are lucky. I wished I opened it alone. My face was really red.
Hilarity wears off first. Then shock. Embarrassment remains, and shall remain, for a long time.
I’m pissed off and toss the porn mags in the garbage. Tai, the GM, tells me I can’t, because someone might find it, and something about women and sexual harassment. I’m forced to bring the porn mags home!
I give Lisa a 40 of Tanqueray, a Tickle Me Elmo, an overpriced Hallmark card, and what do I get? Porn!
I hate Secret Santa.
I distinctively remember Lia, the Swedish waitress, mocking me, “We all know what Sean is going to be doing when he gets home!” No Lia, that’s not what I did when I got home.
To this day I don’t know who it was. The core suspects are:
1. Anika. The hostess. We were the first to greet you, the patron, with shouts of, “Irasshaimase!”. When we weren't busy, we stood across from one another — her behind hostess stand, me behind bar — and hurled insults at each other all afternoon. It was very funny, but it cut very deep. I still bare the scars.
2. Lisa, the aforementioned Japanese/Vietnamese waitress. She may have been too remorseful to admit her guilt, given the gushing text of thanks I received.
3. Lia. Strong circumstantial evidence: her mocking laugh that morning. She didn’t mention anything though when she left home for Sweden.
4. The gay head waiter, whose name has escaped my memory. I posit this because the porn was… rather bad. The girls were unattractive; magazine content and editing poor all around.
I gave it a C-. The content of course.
The strangest thing was one of the magazines was from the UK. Where do you buy UK porn mags in Vancouver, Canada? Aren’t you familiar with Playboy? Perhaps not if you’re gay. I don’t know.
There’s only one gift more embarrassing one can receive, and this is “Fifty Shades of Grey”. This story, however, I’ll hold close to my chest for the rest of my life.
Dedicated to Tai and Asako for hiring me, and the whole team, Koji, Kei, Kazuki, Ai, Lia, Lisa, Alisa, Sam, Angel, Keiko, Kaori, Manami, Ray, Shota, and Wally.
Shout out to all my co-workers, as I never visited again after I left, because I was busy sorting myself out. Merry Christmas friends.
