This is that moment when you’re at work and there’s nothing to do, but your manager hasn’t cut you yet because they might need you. You sit there at the host stand waiting for a cue from your manager and servers. You see guests leave and you assume there’s a table to be bussed (that means cleaned off, for you non-restaurant folk). You go clean it, while narrowly escaping the throng that has formed around the bar. You remember that you’re slightly claustrophobic and definitely hate big groups of people. “Why am I working in a restaurant with a bar?” Check that, two bars.
Now, I’m not complaining; I love my job. I just realized that I prefer brunch, when people are getting tipsy on mimosas and not milling around getting in my way of seating diners at tables. The challenge of my job could be restricted to strategy and a game of Tetris. If we didn’t have a full bar with a small amount of standing room I’d be happier here at night. But the restaurant usually isn’t this crowded. Private events made it so that more bar guests have crowded into the front bar, which is waaaaay smaller than the one in our lounge.
Enough whining. You made it through, so you get Amazon prime at a discount through my affiliate link!
This is a big step, for me, for him, for us. It’s extremely cliché; I know it. We signed a lease together and I’m going to write this post even though he’ll probably be embarrassed. However, since many of you out there don’t know who HE is, he can relax, knowing that the ones who do know won’t make fun of him for too long.
My man and I lived together for a few months out of necessity and, I’d have to wager, a bit of laziness on his part. Or, maybe it was his sneaky way of a test drive. Whatever it was, living together at my last place of abode led to us signing our first lease together about one month prior to this post.
We’ve been officially moved-in together for about three weeks; I think it’s going well! We even had our first houseguests over, including one of our favorite couples ever over for a hilarious evening of food and wine. I made boeuf bourguignon a la Julia Child (because I can’t resist making a mention of her wonderful legacy) and he made the most wonderful salad. Of course, the walnuts were raw, yet still scrumptious because, as we discovered in media res, our oven wouldn’t heat up…
In other news, I’ve gotten what one can only call a promotion of sorts. It’s funny how getting a raise and promotion only means new (and more) work. At least that’s what I’ve observed in the movies! Ha! I’ve just gotten my first one of either sort. Although, I’m not sure if I can really say promotion, but my hours of work and play have dramatically changed and, as of this payday, so will the number of dollars in my direct deposit.
It’s amazing to think that it was three years ago to the day, I was fired from my first job in the city, for being trained improperly. I still believe there were more motives than that at play, but who cares at this point? The only reason I even know that it happened is that I wrote a draft labeled March 22, 2014: “Being fired and moving on…Yes, I was just fired from my job yesterday.”
I’m not sure I even want to open the draft to read the rest–I can’t believe how different my life is now. I can’t believe that back then I could even begin to fathom that I was happy–I was not nearly as happy as I am now……
Took the time to read that draft and I’m amazed at how positive I was about being fired from a job I loved so much…Of course, that’s how my momma raised me!