And As The Sun Goes Down I Cry Myself To Sleep
Here's why trying to go back to school sucks.
Calling any sort of University office fucking blows, because none of the offices work with each other. So, if you have to say check you status on registration, you have to call the Admissions office only to be rerouted to the Registrar's office, only for them to politely tell you that you have to talk to your academic advisor. Who sends you back to the student affairs department of General University only to be sent back to your advisor for everything else you have to get out of him. Then if you want to ask about your financial aid, you have to call financial aid, but you have to get your academic bullshit in order to do that, so you call the records office and then get sent to the registrar's office. It's a lot of hoops to jump through just for one question. At least when I call for an apartment there's one of two answers. I have some for rent or I don't have any for rent. The last time I had to call for financial aid, I was sent to a voice mail twice, sent to a busy signal once, and swore enough to get sent to the actual person on the fourth time. So, if this teaches me anything, it's that swearing and being pissed off gets things done faster. I will try and take this life lesson with me and apply it to everyday use.
Work is a big fucking waste of time lately. Tuesday, my day off, I get called in @ 12:30 pm. That's right after lunch, when I get there two servers are fighting with each other, I don't do much more than put my jacket down than I have to run food that's been in the window for at least 7 minutes. I then run more food while another server is crying about an ex-boyfriend or something that doesn't matter. I sit down for a cigarette and realize I haven't clocked in for 45 minutes. I get up to do so and the computer shuts down. Not just the one I was trying to use, but the entire server crashes and stays down for 2 hours or so. That means that no orders can be sent to the kitchen unless they are handwritten and given to them. Nothing can be cashed out unless we make change from the register that has to be unlocked with a key, and credit cards have to be imprinted like they used to do in the old times before computers. Needless to say, I asked people to pay with cash if they had it. I stuck around through the shift change, and a server doesn't show up, so I stay there and seat the door and run food and cash people out. By 10 pm I remember that I haven't been clocked in the whole day, it doesn't matter by that point, so I finish the 12 hours out and have to come back @ 5 pm Wednesday. Did I mention that Tuesday is "kids eat free" day? We all now how much I hate kids, especially kids who are snot-nosed pieces of shit that throw food around and act like fuck-holes. "But Drew," you say, "They're just being kids, they don't know any better." I don't fucking care, these kids get to throw food all over the place and mess up tons of floor space and tables and cause a fuck-ton of extra work, and ignorance is no excuse for that. If I blew up a car, because I "didn't know any better" would that be forgivable? I know that's extreme, but I wasn't thinking clearly when I was dealing with Mom's favorite accident and Dad's poster child for abortion.
Wednesday was bullshit. The Owner showed up with her boss and did a lame fucking inspection that served no purpose. I had to clean the baseboards under the counter with a grout cleaner because someone else didn't do it when they were supposed to do it a while ago. I had 3 tables in smoking, which is usually the biggest section. And to boot, I only made 17 bucks from 5 pm to 11 pm. I realize that generally speaking swing shift is the slowest shift, but fuck that. After working and sweating my ass off for $2.13 an hour, I was mildly pissed off. I also had to take apart all the salt and pepper shakers from smoking, since no one else was working with me in that station, and wash them. I needed to get them out on the table by late night, but was about 2 or 3 hours off. Not that I gave a shit by that point in the night. I had 4 tables once late night started, and I asked myself, why the fuck am I still working here. All I wanted to do was go into the walk-in, crouch down, hug my knees, and cry. Because it makes me feel better.
The Salem Fair starts today, so we're gonna get some horrible customers and even worse tippers. Fair Week can be one of two things, A phenomenal waste of time or a seriously horrible experience with okay pay. Either way, I don't want to wait on Carnies who don't fucking tip and smell like the Fair.
Is it possible I've grown more morose?
I have to register for classes by the 14th and there's still some sort of fucking hold that's preventing me from doing that, not that I'm going to get the classes I need anyway, but still it's the principle of the thing.
And I'm running out of cigarettes as I sit here and type, not that that matters, I have some at home, but it's the principle of the thing.
I still have to find an apartment or efficiency to live in once I move to Boone. I also need a job. Neither of those will happen until I can make a trip to NC. I don't know when I'm going to go. I'll probably end up living in a 125 square foot atrocity shit-fest of an apartment and paying way too much for said crap-shack.
Once I figure out all that, I'll be good to go...and stress out about college and paying and that nonsense.
Calling any sort of University office fucking blows, because none of the offices work with each other. So, if you have to say check you status on registration, you have to call the Admissions office only to be rerouted to the Registrar's office, only for them to politely tell you that you have to talk to your academic advisor. Who sends you back to the student affairs department of General University only to be sent back to your advisor for everything else you have to get out of him. Then if you want to ask about your financial aid, you have to call financial aid, but you have to get your academic bullshit in order to do that, so you call the records office and then get sent to the registrar's office. It's a lot of hoops to jump through just for one question. At least when I call for an apartment there's one of two answers. I have some for rent or I don't have any for rent. The last time I had to call for financial aid, I was sent to a voice mail twice, sent to a busy signal once, and swore enough to get sent to the actual person on the fourth time. So, if this teaches me anything, it's that swearing and being pissed off gets things done faster. I will try and take this life lesson with me and apply it to everyday use.
Work is a big fucking waste of time lately. Tuesday, my day off, I get called in @ 12:30 pm. That's right after lunch, when I get there two servers are fighting with each other, I don't do much more than put my jacket down than I have to run food that's been in the window for at least 7 minutes. I then run more food while another server is crying about an ex-boyfriend or something that doesn't matter. I sit down for a cigarette and realize I haven't clocked in for 45 minutes. I get up to do so and the computer shuts down. Not just the one I was trying to use, but the entire server crashes and stays down for 2 hours or so. That means that no orders can be sent to the kitchen unless they are handwritten and given to them. Nothing can be cashed out unless we make change from the register that has to be unlocked with a key, and credit cards have to be imprinted like they used to do in the old times before computers. Needless to say, I asked people to pay with cash if they had it. I stuck around through the shift change, and a server doesn't show up, so I stay there and seat the door and run food and cash people out. By 10 pm I remember that I haven't been clocked in the whole day, it doesn't matter by that point, so I finish the 12 hours out and have to come back @ 5 pm Wednesday. Did I mention that Tuesday is "kids eat free" day? We all now how much I hate kids, especially kids who are snot-nosed pieces of shit that throw food around and act like fuck-holes. "But Drew," you say, "They're just being kids, they don't know any better." I don't fucking care, these kids get to throw food all over the place and mess up tons of floor space and tables and cause a fuck-ton of extra work, and ignorance is no excuse for that. If I blew up a car, because I "didn't know any better" would that be forgivable? I know that's extreme, but I wasn't thinking clearly when I was dealing with Mom's favorite accident and Dad's poster child for abortion.
Wednesday was bullshit. The Owner showed up with her boss and did a lame fucking inspection that served no purpose. I had to clean the baseboards under the counter with a grout cleaner because someone else didn't do it when they were supposed to do it a while ago. I had 3 tables in smoking, which is usually the biggest section. And to boot, I only made 17 bucks from 5 pm to 11 pm. I realize that generally speaking swing shift is the slowest shift, but fuck that. After working and sweating my ass off for $2.13 an hour, I was mildly pissed off. I also had to take apart all the salt and pepper shakers from smoking, since no one else was working with me in that station, and wash them. I needed to get them out on the table by late night, but was about 2 or 3 hours off. Not that I gave a shit by that point in the night. I had 4 tables once late night started, and I asked myself, why the fuck am I still working here. All I wanted to do was go into the walk-in, crouch down, hug my knees, and cry. Because it makes me feel better.
The Salem Fair starts today, so we're gonna get some horrible customers and even worse tippers. Fair Week can be one of two things, A phenomenal waste of time or a seriously horrible experience with okay pay. Either way, I don't want to wait on Carnies who don't fucking tip and smell like the Fair.
Is it possible I've grown more morose?
I have to register for classes by the 14th and there's still some sort of fucking hold that's preventing me from doing that, not that I'm going to get the classes I need anyway, but still it's the principle of the thing.
And I'm running out of cigarettes as I sit here and type, not that that matters, I have some at home, but it's the principle of the thing.
I still have to find an apartment or efficiency to live in once I move to Boone. I also need a job. Neither of those will happen until I can make a trip to NC. I don't know when I'm going to go. I'll probably end up living in a 125 square foot atrocity shit-fest of an apartment and paying way too much for said crap-shack.
Once I figure out all that, I'll be good to go...and stress out about college and paying and that nonsense.