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dragonlady7I have my first solo shift as a bartender today.
In the US Air Club.
Which, the girl who trained me said, gets like 2 people in there on a shift. Very boring. Bring something to do.
So I'm going to lean on the bar and write a novel. Why not?
So, maybe I'll have something to post. But, probably not the Vikings novel, because that one requires that I bring too much backstory with me, and I just can't face schlepping another binder through security. (Maybe once I get my security badge...) For now, I'm bringing only what I can fit into a gallon Ziploc bag, which strikes me as much easier to get through security with.
I doubt I'll earn any tips today. This is the first day I get to keep tips I earn, but as has been said, there are no customers in there, so it doesn't matter.
Perhaps this coming Tuesday I'll actually earn some tips. That'd be nice. I'm about three inches away from maxing out my credit card, and am sorely low on cash.
Friday was payday at the airport, but I didn't get a check for my first week. I am a little concerned. I don't know how much I'm paid while training. I hope to God I'm paid something because I was killin' myself in there and yet there wasn't a moment I was useless. And I hope to God they pay me before another two weeks has passed because in two weeks I'll probably have starved.
I went on a little shopping spree yesterday, to buy myself clothes to come to work in, because I only had one outfit for each job and the laundry was getting silly. It's nice to have something comfortable to wear, but yeah, it only drove home the fact that I'm still broke.
On another note, the consensus at both of my jobs is that it is astonishing that I am twenty-five. People both places guessed my age at nineteen. Why is that? I can't think of why I look so young. Both my younger sisters look older than me. "It's your good German genes," the Italian/German waitress at work said, a little smugly. But, uh, my sisters have the same genes... And at this age, looking younger isn't necessarily a good thing. People don't take me seriously because they think I'm a little girl. But I'm not.
It's not like I'm small; I'm 5'7" in my sneakers, and approaching 190 pounds, which you couldn't call baby fat-- it's mostly boobs. I'm shaped like my grandmother was at thirty.
It might be my gormlessness and total lack of fashion sense. That's my best guess.
In the US Air Club.
Which, the girl who trained me said, gets like 2 people in there on a shift. Very boring. Bring something to do.
So I'm going to lean on the bar and write a novel. Why not?
So, maybe I'll have something to post. But, probably not the Vikings novel, because that one requires that I bring too much backstory with me, and I just can't face schlepping another binder through security. (Maybe once I get my security badge...) For now, I'm bringing only what I can fit into a gallon Ziploc bag, which strikes me as much easier to get through security with.
I doubt I'll earn any tips today. This is the first day I get to keep tips I earn, but as has been said, there are no customers in there, so it doesn't matter.
Perhaps this coming Tuesday I'll actually earn some tips. That'd be nice. I'm about three inches away from maxing out my credit card, and am sorely low on cash.
Friday was payday at the airport, but I didn't get a check for my first week. I am a little concerned. I don't know how much I'm paid while training. I hope to God I'm paid something because I was killin' myself in there and yet there wasn't a moment I was useless. And I hope to God they pay me before another two weeks has passed because in two weeks I'll probably have starved.
I went on a little shopping spree yesterday, to buy myself clothes to come to work in, because I only had one outfit for each job and the laundry was getting silly. It's nice to have something comfortable to wear, but yeah, it only drove home the fact that I'm still broke.
On another note, the consensus at both of my jobs is that it is astonishing that I am twenty-five. People both places guessed my age at nineteen. Why is that? I can't think of why I look so young. Both my younger sisters look older than me. "It's your good German genes," the Italian/German waitress at work said, a little smugly. But, uh, my sisters have the same genes... And at this age, looking younger isn't necessarily a good thing. People don't take me seriously because they think I'm a little girl. But I'm not.
It's not like I'm small; I'm 5'7" in my sneakers, and approaching 190 pounds, which you couldn't call baby fat-- it's mostly boobs. I'm shaped like my grandmother was at thirty.
It might be my gormlessness and total lack of fashion sense. That's my best guess.
