So last night was the first night I was on the floor as a waitress. I took the shift at the store mostly because I was excited to work but also because the golf outing (which Chris participated in) and I wanted to check it out. Well, I could have picked a better store to throw myself into the action. Mind you, besides the two private parties, the store just opened so for four solid hours I ran around with my head cut off. My 11 tables would all be sat at once, and then they wanted to order at once, then they wanted their check at the same time. Finally I just went from one table to the next taking orders and then dropping off drinks. I didn't have time to be overly friendly and to be the waitress that I would like to be. I didn't even have time to pee. I would take my deep breaths while standing at the computer inputting 11 orders at a time. I had the thought that being a flight attendant and waitress...pretty much the same thing with 35,000 feet difference. Well, here is the main difference: once people are served that's it, the doors don't open and reseat people.
I made it back home at 0130 with my cab driver telling me how bad my neighborhood was and that I should move to Staton Island. How bout you mind your business and just drive motherfucker...the Brooklyn is rubbing off! ; )
So today, I am doing nothing. My legs hurt from working, I bathed then in the sunshine and they are about to get a pedicure. I have no plans to leave the hood today. The roomies are home as well and the four cats, yes I said four are trying desperately to get along. Organized chaos, right here in Brooklyn.
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