I still love my job.
Sometimes I forget how much my job rocks. Saturday night I was so bored I started thinking in alliteration. "Four fine, fat pheasants left the forest laughing." The idea that I could spell the f sound (there must be a better way to express that) three different ways pleased me greatly.
Tangent over. Today I had no problem remembering why I love it there. I got out of working Thanksgiving so I volunteered for Easter; I'd been dreading it all week -- I knew we'd be dead and I'd have to try to levitate the paper towel with my mind just to alleviate the boredom (someday this will work), and the one waitress I don't like (who is leaving permanently this week :) ) was the only other employee there. Not to mention that the family who owns the bar always has dinner there with their extended family, so there was also a scary social aspect.
While it was slow beyond belief, it was also a wonderful afternoon. My mother has worked for these people for over twenty years; thus they've known me all my life and treat me, and the rest of their employees, like family. They took over the kitchen warming things up for dinner and asking me questions about various things in my life that I've no idea how they knew about in the first place.
Waitress and I were invited to eat with them of course, and one of my favorite customers had been called earlier in the day (his wife died a few years ago and I don't think they had any children) and there was no way I could feel out of place. Afterwords I practically had to fight them off to get at the dishes. I wasn't supposed to do them. While being paid to eat sounds wonderful, it just seemed a bit wrong. Once we got everything cleaned up I went out to socialize a bit. Later I hid eggs for the evening waitress -- she found it odd that my mother still makes me an Easter basket so my mother thought this would be fun. She grinned like a child when I told her she had a dozen eggs (chocolate covered marshmallow) to find so it probably had the desired effect.
I just love that I can go to work and play silly games and spend time with people I care about and show the baby the jukebox and every other small thing that blurs the line between work and home.
Tangent over. Today I had no problem remembering why I love it there. I got out of working Thanksgiving so I volunteered for Easter; I'd been dreading it all week -- I knew we'd be dead and I'd have to try to levitate the paper towel with my mind just to alleviate the boredom (someday this will work), and the one waitress I don't like (who is leaving permanently this week :) ) was the only other employee there. Not to mention that the family who owns the bar always has dinner there with their extended family, so there was also a scary social aspect.
While it was slow beyond belief, it was also a wonderful afternoon. My mother has worked for these people for over twenty years; thus they've known me all my life and treat me, and the rest of their employees, like family. They took over the kitchen warming things up for dinner and asking me questions about various things in my life that I've no idea how they knew about in the first place.
Waitress and I were invited to eat with them of course, and one of my favorite customers had been called earlier in the day (his wife died a few years ago and I don't think they had any children) and there was no way I could feel out of place. Afterwords I practically had to fight them off to get at the dishes. I wasn't supposed to do them. While being paid to eat sounds wonderful, it just seemed a bit wrong. Once we got everything cleaned up I went out to socialize a bit. Later I hid eggs for the evening waitress -- she found it odd that my mother still makes me an Easter basket so my mother thought this would be fun. She grinned like a child when I told her she had a dozen eggs (chocolate covered marshmallow) to find so it probably had the desired effect.
I just love that I can go to work and play silly games and spend time with people I care about and show the baby the jukebox and every other small thing that blurs the line between work and home.