Daughters of the Shadow Men

When we left Boulder for Phoenix after our vacation, thanks to the boys' efforts, a new member of the family went with us.  Blackie was the offspring of my cousin Richard and wife Marilyn's prize cocker spaniel dad and their Aunt ReNon's dachsund mother.  He was such a cute lovable pup I will never ever forget him.  He loved all of us so much, and everybody we loved. 

But oh what a terrible time we had housebreaking him.  He chewed all our shoes and he destroyed a shag rug which did not make my mother, the landlady, too happy.  But after that, he was the ideal companion for the boys, especially Raymond, if he did not have kids to play with. 

If you look very close you can see that little hill just above the horizon.  That is one hump of the historic Camelback Mountain looking out from the street to the east of the Westward Ho.  The Camelback Inn is near.   

As for me, I returned to work for a short while to Guggy's until it was announced that Barry Goldwater had won the race for nominee to run for president and that he was going to make the historic Camelback Inn his headquarters.  I decided it would be fun to work there while all this was going on, so I applied, got a job, and was soon an employee to my own surprise as well as everybody else's.

I soon learned that the owners of Cameback had been recruiting waiters and waitresses and cooks and chefs from all over the world for years.  They had dorms in the back where they were housed.  I found out there was a very good reason why local waitresses shunned the place.  I had to work a triple shift!  I had to go in for breakfast, then wait around for lunch.  After lunch I could possibly come home if I lived close enough, but had to be back at five to start serving in the dining room.  Once in a while I was rewarded with a double shift, breakfast and lunch.

The owners were now so old and decrepit I soon learned the help was robbing them of all their valuables,. like silver teapots.  And they were going to put the Inn on the market before they dropped dead of old age while still on the job.  The male owner might even have died, leaving a very eccentric little wife to carry on. 

The help got to eat all kinds of exotic food.  No expense was spared to please guests.  I remember I ate frogs legs for the first time, but the crab legs were the best.  It was ironic to me who had come from Guggy's, famous for its pies, that Camelback served the most repelling pie I have ever seen in a restaurant.  The crust was hard as a board, and the filling was inedible. And no whipped cream in the place.  My theory was that the rich never eat anything so vulgar and fattening as pie, so nobody complained and the owners had no idea how bad the pie was. I am afraid if anyone had ordered it I would have felt it my duty to discourage them. 

I soon found out that I was not made to wait on the rich.  Just as soon as somebody expects me to be perfect at such a lowly task as waiting tables, I screw up.  I will never forget the night I was told I was going to have to help two waiters with a big table of Vanderbilts!  Vanderbilts.  Oh God help me I thought, and sure enough they ordered expensive wines, they were just so suave and sophisticated they made me tremble.  I am surprised I did not collapse in a little heap on the floor at their feet, but the experienced waiters from Switzerland and France saved me.  I thought that night that as soon as Barry Goldwater did his thing, I was going to have to find another job or be stricken with a nervosa from which I might never recover. 

He lost in a landside, but before I could quit Mother and Dad got into a fight over money that was the worst yet.  The rich do act worse than the rest of us! Including my parents. They were the ones who caused me to collapse of nervosa at work before I could even quit the place.  

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• #3 Comment from nelishianatl 
  4/17/08 10:56 PM | Permalink

  I waited on rich people when I was a CNA at a hospital.  One lady had me down on my knees washing her feet and then demanded that I make sure that I dry between her toes.  I've had them demanding that I wipe their butt when they could certainly do it themselves.  They thought the hospital was like the Trump hotel and I was their personal assistant and ringing that bell meant room service.  They would say put the blinds up, no put the blinds down, no that's too far put it back up and then they would stop exactly where it was to start with.  Ringing for room service to hand them their water glass which was in hands reach on their bedside table.  It doesn't matter if you were taking care of truly sick people in the other room, they wanted what they wanted and they wanted it before they had to ask for it.  I would've had a nervous breakdown if they weren't discharged soon.
  
  I hope you have some pictures of Blackie.
  
  
  Nelishia
  http://journals.aol.com/nelishianatl/PRAYINGANDBELIEVING/
  
  
• #2 Comment from lanurseprn 
  4/17/08 10:07 PM | Permalink

  I've taken care of rich people in the hospital. The only rich person I EVER enjoyed was Tiger Wood's father. The man had a heart of gold!  The other rich people thought I was their slave!
  I love reading your memoirs. You've had such an interesting life!
  Hugs..Pam xoxox
• #1 Comment from kamdghwmw 
  4/17/08 6:16 PM | Permalink

  did you ever meet anderson cooper? The news guy? He is a vanderbilt. I am not able to wait on rich people. I would rather be rich! Lol
  Kelli
  http://journals.aol.com/kamdghwmw/noonmom