About 5 days ago I started playing the sickeningly popular MMO, World of Warcraft. Sure it's fun, but why would I write about that? What I want to express is the odd familiarity I found while playing it. You see...
About 5 months ago I started working at a restaurant in my hometown. Of the two factions, I chose to play Back of House. I rolled a 20-30 year-old grill cook. I'm sorry, are you an RPG nerd. No? Let me break it down.
Class
Grill Cook
Role: Damage Dealer
-Reduces each check health to zero. Low health (highly irritable).
Of course, there are lots of other classes in the restaurant.
Manager
Role: Tank
-Absorbs enemy complaints and all the garbage that goes down in the house. Constantly barks out orders.
Prep Cook
Role: Support Buffs
-Keeps other cooks stocked and prepared, providing a permanent haste buff to cooking and stocking speed.
Dish Washer
Role: Healer
-Removes negative status effects from the kitchen. Heals grill cooks by giving them someone beneath them to lash out at.
Race
20-30 year-old
-Balanced Race. Average wisdom and energy. Slight elitism somehow despite working in a kitchen past 20's.
And there are certainly other races amongst us too.
16-20 year-old
-High energy race. Can activate berserk every hour, giving a 20% casting haste but a 50% increase to mess generated. +30% experience gained.
30+ years old
-High health race. Not easily upset (read: too old to give a care). Base speed is low, but has a racial ability to use wisdom as speed modifier, putting young guns in their place by sheer life experience. -30% experience gained (read: hard to teach an old dog new tricks).
Well, now that I've laid all that out, let me just say, our store (henceforth to be known as "our server") is one of the busiest. Lots of mobs just crawling in from everywhere. Frequently aggressive. My experience began with the tutorial stage, learning what all the different instruments do. Next came the exploring stage, making my way throughout Azerothony's and meeting new people of different classes. And then comes the level grinding.
I defeated countless burgers, phillies, and steaks. As I leveled, I acquired new skills. Take for instance:
Read the freaking check
-Casting time: 5 seconds
Lean in and actually read the check, idiot. Reduces the chance of a order mistake proc by 90%.
Oils, Seasonings, and Presses, oh my!
-Casting time: ~a few seconds
It's amazing how with a little butter, pepper, or onion salt, you can make your food taste palatable. Oil and grill presses can haste your casting time by as much as 80%.
And my favorite:
Burn resistance
-Passive ability
Splashing yourself with oil or touching a scalding plate doesn't make you freak out like a little girl. Oh, it hurts alright. But you're a man now. Remember, this is simple burn resistance, not fire resistance. Your flesh is just as flammable.
Before long, I realized there were entire talent trees. I could spec speed, clean, efficient, or fun. Bet you're curious what each of those are. Of course you are! If you're still reading by this point, you'd hate me for not telling you.
Speed
Abilities center around berserk and general haste buffs. Highest dps and highest mess. You might be saving time by flailing your arms around like a human blender, but when it's time to clean your floors, you'll consider respecking as:
Clean
Your abilities are primarily geared toward using exactly what you need, no more no less. Excess creates mess. Cooking times might be slower, but you have the fastest side-work time and generate lots of honor points when people see your pristine work station. Of course, you're so focused on staying tidy you might might mess up here and there, so maybe you should spec
Efficiency
You get it right the first time, every time. If this whole cooking thing really were and RPG, you'd put "read the freaking check" on number 1-9 and faceroll your way to victory. Avoids those nasty order mistake procs almost entirely which, lets face it, is like guaranteeing no enemy will ever crit on you. Of course, you inflict massive penalties to casting haste, and if you're going that slow, why not be
Fun
There's really no better word. Some people think that funny stories, a careful amount of singing, and goofy antics have no place in the game, but they're wrong. You heal yourself and those around you from stress and boredom in-between checks. Not exactly ideal for massive raids, but great for those little 5-man dungeon shifts.
And from there, I realized it's all up to me for what kinds of shifts I want. Friday nights are some great experienced raids. Monday afternoons are some casual questing. Holidays offer lots of exciting new mobs and quests. Maybe in time you'll level your way to the top, acquire all the hip titles and gear. But in the end, no matter how difficult the boss, every enemy drops the same loot at 8 dollars an hour.
And so that's why we call it a grind.
Friday, April 29, 2011
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Tales from the Kitchen: Issue #1
I get to witness so many hilarious and absurd events while cooking at the restaurant I work at (which will henceforth remain nameless). It would be selfish not to share them with you all. So here is the first edition of "Tales from the Kitchen." I'll try and reduce some of the "language" offense, but I feel the need to try and preserve the characters.
***
Me: Should I throw out these diced onions. They’re a little . . . soggy.
Justin: Yes, hell yes. These should have been thrown out days ago.
Me: Well, they’re still ok to cook on the grill right? They sauté in with the Philly meat and everything—
Justin: No, that’s disgusting. You can’t cook the rot out of food. It’s a grill, not a G**d*** time machine.
***
Larry: Hey Allen, want to see a cool trick with the freezer door?
Me: Sure, what is it?
Larry: Alright, open the door and stick your hand through the opening between the hinges.
Me: No way, you'll smash my fingers.
Larry: Fine, you can hold it open. That wouldn't be much of a trick anyway.
Me: Ok, now what?
Larry: Hold onto this egg.
Me: Ok, and then what?
Larry: See ya!
He walks away and leaves me with a few fingers reaching through the hinge opening holding an egg. The door is too big to reach around and take it with my other hand. There is nothing on the other side I can set the egg down on. Unless I feel like cleaning up egg...I'm stuck.
Thankfully, a few moments later he comes back and relieves me of my dilemma.
*** (This one's a little gross. Brace yourselves.)
Dave walks into the kitchen and utters the words, "The strangest thing in the world just happened to me." Only he didn't say it like it was a cliche or exaggeration. The horror in his eyes told me he meant it.
"I'm listening," I told him.
"I was taking a s*** when I hear the door open. Then, he starts to jiggle the stall handle I'm in. Somehow he knocks it open and walks in on me. But he doesn't just walk in on me, this 80 year old man comes over and tries to sit down. I shouted, 'Sir, this is in use, could you please step out!' All he turned and said was 'What?' I repeated myself and he slowly turned and walked out. Except he doesn't close the door. I'm straddling the seat trying to lean forward and push this door shut when the crazy old man tries to walk in on me again. 'Sir, I promise I'll be quick, just wait outside!'"
As Dave is telling me all this, the man was currently in the bathroom. Sadly, we could see his caretaker standing outside the restroom waiting. About 10 minutes later he finally comes out. Though the back of the house all laughed at the story, those working up front didn't find it so funny when they realized he released his bowels all over the floor and had to clean it up.
And the moral of the story is: lock your stall doors up good, because:
As always, hide yo kids, hide yo wives.
***
Me: Should I throw out these diced onions. They’re a little . . . soggy.
Justin: Yes, hell yes. These should have been thrown out days ago.
Me: Well, they’re still ok to cook on the grill right? They sauté in with the Philly meat and everything—
Justin: No, that’s disgusting. You can’t cook the rot out of food. It’s a grill, not a G**d*** time machine.
***
Larry: Hey Allen, want to see a cool trick with the freezer door?
Me: Sure, what is it?
Larry: Alright, open the door and stick your hand through the opening between the hinges.
Me: No way, you'll smash my fingers.
Larry: Fine, you can hold it open. That wouldn't be much of a trick anyway.
Me: Ok, now what?
Larry: Hold onto this egg.
Me: Ok, and then what?
Larry: See ya!
He walks away and leaves me with a few fingers reaching through the hinge opening holding an egg. The door is too big to reach around and take it with my other hand. There is nothing on the other side I can set the egg down on. Unless I feel like cleaning up egg...I'm stuck.
Thankfully, a few moments later he comes back and relieves me of my dilemma.
*** (This one's a little gross. Brace yourselves.)
Dave walks into the kitchen and utters the words, "The strangest thing in the world just happened to me." Only he didn't say it like it was a cliche or exaggeration. The horror in his eyes told me he meant it.
"I'm listening," I told him.
"I was taking a s*** when I hear the door open. Then, he starts to jiggle the stall handle I'm in. Somehow he knocks it open and walks in on me. But he doesn't just walk in on me, this 80 year old man comes over and tries to sit down. I shouted, 'Sir, this is in use, could you please step out!' All he turned and said was 'What?' I repeated myself and he slowly turned and walked out. Except he doesn't close the door. I'm straddling the seat trying to lean forward and push this door shut when the crazy old man tries to walk in on me again. 'Sir, I promise I'll be quick, just wait outside!'"
As Dave is telling me all this, the man was currently in the bathroom. Sadly, we could see his caretaker standing outside the restroom waiting. About 10 minutes later he finally comes out. Though the back of the house all laughed at the story, those working up front didn't find it so funny when they realized he released his bowels all over the floor and had to clean it up.
And the moral of the story is: lock your stall doors up good, because:
As always, hide yo kids, hide yo wives.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Caption Game
I've decided to import my posts into facebook as well, so if you're reading this on facebook, "congrats!" Apparently, I cater to people just like you! Of course, feel free to check out the full blog at http://barrelofjesus.blogspot.com for continuing hilarity.
I've got about a dozen of these pictures I'll be posting randomly for a caption game. Most of them come from a favorite site of mine, Dorkly, but I've turned them into caption pics. If you think you have a better caption, comment below.
I've got about a dozen of these pictures I'll be posting randomly for a caption game. Most of them come from a favorite site of mine, Dorkly, but I've turned them into caption pics. If you think you have a better caption, comment below.
Monday, April 11, 2011
Origin Story
Either you're reading the first post of my new blog because you’re on the cutting edge, or you've scrolled back to see how all this madness started. Either way, I'm going to give you exactly what you want:
An explanation of how the title "Barrel of Jesus" came to be. An old-fashioned Origin Story.
It was a warm summer's eve gathered in the dusty, garage-like chapel at Blueridge Christian Camp. Some fool decided to trust my friend JW and I with a group of rowdy middle schoolers for the week, and so began our team. Our first task was to name the proud warriors we were in charge of, but unfortunately, their creative potential extended only as far as "The booger brains" and such. With only a few moments left to decide, JW spotted a source of inspiration, another team leader wearing ridiculous pajama pants covered with those little barrel of monkey guys. He suggested it, and it stuck. We were the fearless, unstoppable "Barrel of Monkeys."
I wish I could say the week went fantastic from there, but it didn't. Mostly, it rained. But it not the kind of rain that you run through and scream for the thrill of the storm. It was the on and off again rain that relents long enough to get your hopes up, then crushes the dream of doing anything outside. Let me explain:
Eating lunch -- Dry outside
Rec time -- Clouds form, begins to rain
Dinner -- Sun comes out, beams of light break through
Evening rec -- Buckets of water fall from nowhere
Chapel service -- Rain stops, possible hope of campfire
Campfire -- Downpour
After a few days, our morale was sinking faster than bare feet in the mud-field the camp had turned into. JW and I tried our best to keep spirits high, as did others. A few faculty and staff formed their own team, the Kobe Stoppers, awarding themselves millions of points for incredible feats, such as memorizing the entire Bible and being old enough to drive cars. The laughs were fun indoors, but after the 3rd consecutive indoor dodgeball tournament and watching the same movie, Extreme Days, we were ready for some actual summer adventure. Afternoon rec time came the next day and would you guess it? It rained. Fortunately, by now we were used to the feeling, and decided to try something outside anyway. We didn't have many other choices as leaders though . . . you can only play spoons so many times before all our hands were shredded from the girls' razor-sharp nails.
So we went outside to find out where each of the teams would be heading that day. The camp director pointed to the different teams and sent them up to the baseball field and the ropes course, but then he looked at our team to give us directions. He paused unable to remember our name.
"Barrel of . . ."
With all the mighty lions and astronauts, he couldn't remember what they heck we were. I watched the frustration mount in his own face and he lost it.
"I don't know guys. Barrel of, Jesus, whatever you are, get over here and play some ultimate frisbee."
We laughed . . . and laughed. Instantly, our name changed. More curiously though, our attitudes changed. We played ultimate in the rain that afternoon having a blast, rain or no. I think it rained the entire rest of that week, but we didn't care. We were the barrel of Jesus, more fun than a barrel of anything else. That identity stuck, and we took the role of morale boosters around the camp. By the end of the week, we learned the difference between being happy and joyful, what it means to "live out of the overflow," and how to play just about any sport in a torrential downpour. To some it may seem sacrilegious, but for our team, we will always have an answer to "what's more fun than a barrel of monkeys?"
A Barrel of Jesus.
***Recording of the Week***
An explanation of how the title "Barrel of Jesus" came to be. An old-fashioned Origin Story.
It was a warm summer's eve gathered in the dusty, garage-like chapel at Blueridge Christian Camp. Some fool decided to trust my friend JW and I with a group of rowdy middle schoolers for the week, and so began our team. Our first task was to name the proud warriors we were in charge of, but unfortunately, their creative potential extended only as far as "The booger brains" and such. With only a few moments left to decide, JW spotted a source of inspiration, another team leader wearing ridiculous pajama pants covered with those little barrel of monkey guys. He suggested it, and it stuck. We were the fearless, unstoppable "Barrel of Monkeys."
I wish I could say the week went fantastic from there, but it didn't. Mostly, it rained. But it not the kind of rain that you run through and scream for the thrill of the storm. It was the on and off again rain that relents long enough to get your hopes up, then crushes the dream of doing anything outside. Let me explain:
Eating lunch -- Dry outside
Rec time -- Clouds form, begins to rain
Dinner -- Sun comes out, beams of light break through
Evening rec -- Buckets of water fall from nowhere
Chapel service -- Rain stops, possible hope of campfire
Campfire -- Downpour
After a few days, our morale was sinking faster than bare feet in the mud-field the camp had turned into. JW and I tried our best to keep spirits high, as did others. A few faculty and staff formed their own team, the Kobe Stoppers, awarding themselves millions of points for incredible feats, such as memorizing the entire Bible and being old enough to drive cars. The laughs were fun indoors, but after the 3rd consecutive indoor dodgeball tournament and watching the same movie, Extreme Days, we were ready for some actual summer adventure. Afternoon rec time came the next day and would you guess it? It rained. Fortunately, by now we were used to the feeling, and decided to try something outside anyway. We didn't have many other choices as leaders though . . . you can only play spoons so many times before all our hands were shredded from the girls' razor-sharp nails.
So we went outside to find out where each of the teams would be heading that day. The camp director pointed to the different teams and sent them up to the baseball field and the ropes course, but then he looked at our team to give us directions. He paused unable to remember our name.
"Barrel of . . ."
With all the mighty lions and astronauts, he couldn't remember what they heck we were. I watched the frustration mount in his own face and he lost it.
"I don't know guys. Barrel of, Jesus, whatever you are, get over here and play some ultimate frisbee."
We laughed . . . and laughed. Instantly, our name changed. More curiously though, our attitudes changed. We played ultimate in the rain that afternoon having a blast, rain or no. I think it rained the entire rest of that week, but we didn't care. We were the barrel of Jesus, more fun than a barrel of anything else. That identity stuck, and we took the role of morale boosters around the camp. By the end of the week, we learned the difference between being happy and joyful, what it means to "live out of the overflow," and how to play just about any sport in a torrential downpour. To some it may seem sacrilegious, but for our team, we will always have an answer to "what's more fun than a barrel of monkeys?"
A Barrel of Jesus.
***Recording of the Week***
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