His Name Is Nick
Saturday, March 14th, 2009Nick Soutter. A new friend introduced by a friend.
A new friend who is wildly intelligent, and extremely kind and patient with a girl who said, ‘um, yeah. It’s broken. It’s totally broken.’
It is all about servers and complicated (to me) stuff that I could not seem to make work. And apparently, you know, a girl should upgrade things once and a while.
Whatever.
What do I really know about upgrading? I am still driving the same car
It was as simple as a few e-mails, a couple of phone calls and a nice Viola! It’s done. All set.
Mr. Nick rocks.
I am hoping he can work the same magic on The Client - the client who has called no less than 5 times to trim the menu. The Client who keeps rattling on and on about tight budgets. The same client who said, “…just a simple buffet station in between the martini bars.”
I had to ask.
“Did you say martini bars…sss… as in plural?”
“Oh I misspoke. What I meant to say was the martini bar and the daquiri bar.”
“You are having a martini bar and a daquiri bar.”
“Yes. Oh, and a wine bar. Well, beer and wine.”
“But your budget for the food is…”
“Limited. We are really trying to pull this thing together on a shoe string. The band was astronomical, but so worth it.”
“You have a band?”
“We do. And they are fantastic.”
“So you have a martini bar, a wine bar, a daquiri bar… and a band…”
“Yes! So much fun.”
I see. We have enough money to bring Crazy Cousin Cathy into a drunken stupor while doing the electric slide, but we don’t have enough money to provide her with enough food to vomit in the coat closet.
I see.
Mr. Nick… it’s broken, it’s totally broken…
(Author’s Note: Please be patient with the very vanilla site… I’m working on it…)