Most of what I write comes out like water from a tap. Sometimes slowly into the basin as it rises and often times with the drain plugged because when I write I feel like it has to reach its point so I can go about my day. The top of the sink is my cutoff. It’s my habitual “deadline” folly I’ve lived with being engulfed in vocations that always have deadlines or ticket times. So I always feel like I have to make my point felt before my ticket times go high. “You need to have this completed before you can get off the couch”. I twitched when I wrote out “ticket times” I don’t think I’ve thought it or said it aloud in 5 years.

Ticket times, for those of you that don’t know, is the kitchen expo’s bane. It’s the time in between when the order gets called out to the kitchen line to the second it arrives in plate form ready to be served. At the steakhouse as outside expo on a Friday night I’d go down the line of tickets “Ticket time on lead is 17 minutes!” 17 wasn’t terrible but you’re steadily creeping to 20. At 20 customers start looking up from their phones and stare into your kitchen.

“Where’s my food?”

At Arizona the manager “spec” was to touch the table after 20 minutes. Shove some free cheese toast down their throat to keep them happy. 25 minutes might’ve gotten a free round of drinks and 30 it’s free app cards or discounts. 40 minutes plus your front of the house manager is hiding behind the dumpster, hands shaking, turboing a Marlboro light before going back in to get their face ripped off.

It happens. Sometimes life ebbs and takes your whole kitchen line with you. I’ve been on both sides. The ticket hanger and the ticket enforcer. I’ve been on the front lines when the expo no longer calls out ticket times because it doesn’t matter anymore. At that point you’re waiting for the women and children to board the lifeboats. Ships already under water.

Titanic = most Mother’s Days

*shudders

My environment for 30 plus years revolved around these ticket times. It inflamed my sense of urgency. Augmented it into my daily routine.

Ticket times when I eat

Ticket times when I’m driving somewhere

Ticket times when I’m sleeping or trying to

Ticket times when I’m just trying to relax and be present. We could go one but my point has been made.

Deleting the ticket times was part of my reckoning.

Was

WAS

It’s still hard to type/say that without getting emotional. As I’ve said before I ended my reckoning last month. I didn’t but I did. It was written out for me. I’m still trying to let it all out. Like a dog that’s been chained to a tree for years and you finally let him loose and he doesn’t want to leave. He’s never been outside of his tethered zone.

It takes time to walk off that familiar worn out path you’ve been walking around in circles the whole time.

When I was released from my reckoning it wasn’t like the prison warden unlocking my cell and kicking me out. It was more like a nurse wheeling me outside after a long stay in the hospital. Gently rolling my chair to the curb, hand on my shoulder and saying “you’re healed. Now you can go catch up with life”

I cannot describe to you this feeling of being.

Composes

I reread my journal entries, not all of them just the ones I’m supposed to and if you’re in my shoes you’d know what that means. The word reckoning wasn’t a word I’d used much in my life. I can’t recall exactly when I referred to my self made rebuilding phase as my reckoning but when I did it clicked, it pinged, it sparked.

It fit. So I kept it as such.

A four year leap of faith. Turning off all exterior lights and focusing on my trail markers to allow a much needed mental realignment.

You don’t choose when it’s over. There’s no assumed ticket time..

Mine pulled the ticket off the rail and punched it through the check spindle.

“No more expoing for you”

“No more ticket times”

“Prop your feet up, smile at your soul” – I didn’t write that last part but I did. I’m getting better at this.

I had a brief emotional “smack” yesterday but it was different. I used to beat myself up with how my emotional outbursts affected me. You can’t shut your emotions down they are meant to be expressed. They are our pressure valves for when we get tight. It’s not how we become emotional that’s as important as to how we respond to the stimulus. I kept it contained as it was meant to be but I also let it flow out of me to release it.

I stayed in control. I was mad hell yes I was and I had every reason to be. It’s ok to let it out. Just don’t act on it while it’s there. You can be mad and in control at the same time.

It’s as simple as that for me.

Life is finally starting to slow down for me. I’m allowing it to.

I reckon I’ll relax for a bit now.

Peace and elbow grease.