What the fuck.
I’m sort of regretting wanting to work in a Mom and Pop’s kind of restaurant.
My eyes become extremely irritated from the onions that the cooks chop, I smell like a fucking Stromboli at the end of the night and the cash register was made in 1980.
I also went out drinking last night, didn’t get to bed by three and had to get up at six. I got my period on the way to work and was in a general bad mood all day accompanied by an outrageous hangover.
I really don’t take this place that seriously.
And Jen was ready to just have me start manning the entire front half of the restaurant because she was gung ho on jumping in the car with the delivery boy so she could go smoke a blunt.
I fucking hate potheads.
She also said I’m not going to be able to collect any tips for a while. Which sucks and doesn’t really make sense.
Hopefully this is just my period talking and I’ll just keep thinking about all the nice stuff I’m going to be able to save up for once I start getting the hang of this job.
That or I’ll just quit. It’s not the end of the world.
My eyes become extremely irritated from the onions that the cooks chop, I smell like a fucking Stromboli at the end of the night and the cash register was made in 1980.
I also went out drinking last night, didn’t get to bed by three and had to get up at six. I got my period on the way to work and was in a general bad mood all day accompanied by an outrageous hangover.
I really don’t take this place that seriously.
And Jen was ready to just have me start manning the entire front half of the restaurant because she was gung ho on jumping in the car with the delivery boy so she could go smoke a blunt.
I fucking hate potheads.
She also said I’m not going to be able to collect any tips for a while. Which sucks and doesn’t really make sense.
Hopefully this is just my period talking and I’ll just keep thinking about all the nice stuff I’m going to be able to save up for once I start getting the hang of this job.
That or I’ll just quit. It’s not the end of the world.