Last night was indeed Hell Night.
So as my previous post had mentioned, I was not looking forward to working last night.
And 15 minutes before I had to go in, I had a mini life crisis.
I spontaneously started bawling and blubbering.
I have been hiding a lot of stress from everyone.
Ever since losing my job, I have been worried about my money situation.
And after four job offers and accepting three of them, I’m still not making enough to survive with all of my bills.
I haven’t talked to MammaK about it because I know that she will just say to stick it out and everything will be fine.
No, it won’t be.
I can’t really talk to the BF about it because well….he’s in the same situation.
Sometimes even worse.
He has way too many bills and is not able to help with any of the extra ones I have been paying.
Plus the fact that I basically spent three years of my life and thousands of dollars for a degree that doesn’t mean shit is very depressing.
Instead of working at a publishing house or a magazine or a PR firm, I am stuck working for minimum wage at three separate jobs.
Yes, I know I am complaining.
Yes, I know there are people who are worse off than me.
And yes I know this is only temporary.
But this is my blog and dammit I will complain if I want to.
So adding all of this to the fact that I was tired and unhappy yesterday afternoon did not make for a good concoction.
Well I suck it up and went to work.
It was pleasantly slow for the first couple of hours.
Then as dinner time approached it picked up a little bit.
For some unknown reason, the manager sent the other server home.
Leaving me, all alone, on my second night ever of serving.
Now I am a very high-strung person when it comes to work.
If I am unsure of what to do, I stress out about it.
Last night, I was stressed out to my breaking point.
After the other server went home, it got fucking busy.
I have never served before, so I’m slow and I’m forgetful when I have too many tables.
Complicating the matters is that I am without an apron to hold all of my shit.
So I’m constantly running back to grab my notepad and pen because I have nowhere to stick it when delivering pizzas and sodas.
This is very irritating.
And the tables are numbered backwards to me.
I count from me to the back wall A1, A2, A3 and so forth.
Weeeeeeeeeeeeellllllll, apparently the Pizza Gods didn’t want to make my life any easier so they decided to switch it.
So then I got all confuzzled with my orders.
I finally said fuck it and just did it the way that made sense to me.
Now, not only was I serving by myself, I had to close by myself.
They said the other manager there knew what all to do and would help.
Well it’s kind of hard to get help when there are deliveries to be made and cut and boxed.
I felt like an annoyance asking her questions when I knew she was already busy and stressed out as well.
I didn’t get out of there until 11:15 and that’s without mopping and making boxes and folding coloring sheets.
She finally let me go after making me feel like an idiot because I didn’t quite know what the checklist meant by “door glass”.
That means you need to spray and wipe the glass on the entry doors.
Duh, Delightfulness, Duh.
I get home.
The BF was asleep on the couch.
He wakes up and asks me if I’m ok.
I say no and promptly begin to bawl my eyes out again.
I get out of my icky uniform and crawl next to him.
He’s smoothing my hair back and rubbing my shoulders and asks what he can do.
Yes, at midnight, we went out to the grocery store to get me some emergency cupcakes.
And let me tell you,
They. Were. Divine.
I am really hoping today is better.
At least I get to have Sparklebumps there with me.
Which is a whole 100% better already.
Because she’s awesome.
Thank god for small favors.
I’m going to get me a whole tub of ice-cream…