Dear Joe,
It seems like a lot has changed for all of us since I first met the Joe (“Oh, really? There is a Joe?”) of Joe’s Garage and his crew back in May of 2003. My first day, I walked in to find Kiki, Dave O., and some other happy drunks behind the old bar (though I didn’t know it then, they were the last few remaining servers of the old days, those gone days when Joe’s Garage had first opened and times were, reportedly, wild). They were hanging out taking shots, just having a good time between brunch and dinner service. Dave O. took one look at me and slurrily growled, “Dinner’s not ‘til five! We’re closed!”
Shortly thereafter, I worked a Sunday brunch with that comedian, the one pictured on the cover of the Rake, oh my god! The one dressed like Rosie the Riveter with a semi-automatic machine gun! She writes a column! I spent time being too impressed to be more than fairly shy. Since then, working with Colleen has always been a pleasure. In fact, Joe’s Garage has been full of witty, adorable, hard-working people. People like Colleen, Nicole, Blake, Mike G, Dave O., Kiki and so many others I'd like to name or have never had the pleasure to meet. I can remember nights when Nicole and Dave O. would get going sometimes, hanging out after work, and I thought I’d choke from laughing so hard. Joe's Garage has been a funny place.
What?! Where's the front door, anyway?
The truth is, I found out fast what the world was like, working at Joe’s Garage, for good or ill. It has always been, if nothing else at the end of the day, fun to work with you, Joe. I loved hosting that first summer; you always cracked me up on the microphone and I felt like I could just be myself at my job.
I’ve worked my butt off at Joe’s Garage and I’ve been drunker than I’ve ever been at Joe’s Garage. I’ve met the best friends of my life at Joe’s Garage. I’ve seen the most pitiful case of a good man full of potential just ruined: wanting to be everybody’s friend, a good father somewhere deep down inside his lonely heart, simply losing himself to drink. Even death (well, not literally with my own two eyes at the restaurant, but--members of our crew, their loved ones, our hearts). Loss of many stripes has been borne generously there, too. And that’s the way it is: life goes on and we all try our hardest to do what we need to do, the best we can do, even if sometimes that’s losing ourselves in a pint glass of Jagermeister.
So, it’s been four summers of opening up the restaurant to find everything from tossed managers passed out on the liquor room couch to serving a lesbian wedding ceremony that had every last hardened one of us crying our eyes out and everything in between. Joe’s Garage at its worst; at its best.
As it turns out, growing into myself at Joe’s Garage, as I suppose I did in many ways, has brought me up with some good people I will truly miss. I am really proud of you and Tammy and your beautiful baby boy. Leo is a very lucky little guy. His parents are unique and interesting and deep people with such life experience and wonder to give, and he’s so loved. I wish your family - at home and at work - all the love in the world.
Well. You’re probably wondering what’s gotten me in this nostalgic frame of mind, after all. It’s this: my official notice. I am hereby giving notice that by the end of August, 2006, I will seek other futures (hopefully setting out to the Peace Corps for a few years before settling down, myself, to having a baby with Dan; that’s it in a nutshell, isn’t it, may life be so kind), making my last available work date Saturday, August 26th.
Thank you for everything, Joe. Whenever you miss me, just look at your big toe, right? At least I can be satisfied that I’ve made some small mark in the world.
Sincerely,
Your Former Hostess and Server
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