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dragonlady7I spent all day yesterday taking deep calming breaths when I wasn't screaming.
I started to make up a shit list, just to calm myself down at the end of the day by reducing the myriad annoyances to something concise, pithy, and hopefully amusing, but-- I had no pen.
Yes.
The asshole who wrote "$1" in the Tips line of the credit card slip for a $40 table stole my last pen.
Which really sums up my day, only imagine that stretched over about fifteen hours, starting with my realization that my notebook was missing (and possibly contained sensitive material), including several near car accidents (in BUFFALO. People don't drive like that here! What the fuck! Jesus! I'm still mad!) and innumerable simpering assurances that my service was excellent followed by really truly cruel stiffings on tips. (At the end, I finally did the math on the tips I made, and I was over $20 under 15% of my sales. It wasn't just in my head that I was doing bad.)
I cried in the cooler on three separate occasions, and tried to leave early but got out 20 minutes late. I cried most of the way home in the car. And I tried to send Z a pithily pathetic text message, but discovered that when he'd sent me a particularly elaborate multi-part mms message, it had deleted the rest of my inbox, including the messages of his that I hit 'reply' to in order to send him messages, and I don't know how to type in his address, because I am indeed actually retarded.
Z made dinner, and instead of me winding up making half of it at the last minute because he's only planned one (spectacular, but only one) dish, I lay on the couch until the whole thing was on the table, and then he went in and got everything he'd forgotten.
He told me funny stories about work, and then after I'd had a shower, he actually gave me a massage. Which has never happened before.
So I think maybe I can survive this afternoon, though it's going to be grim and ridiculous and bad. Then I just have to make it through Thursday-- which will be ok, I know it will-- and then I can GO HOME. I mean home to Melrose.
I started to make up a shit list, just to calm myself down at the end of the day by reducing the myriad annoyances to something concise, pithy, and hopefully amusing, but-- I had no pen.
Yes.
The asshole who wrote "$1" in the Tips line of the credit card slip for a $40 table stole my last pen.
Which really sums up my day, only imagine that stretched over about fifteen hours, starting with my realization that my notebook was missing (and possibly contained sensitive material), including several near car accidents (in BUFFALO. People don't drive like that here! What the fuck! Jesus! I'm still mad!) and innumerable simpering assurances that my service was excellent followed by really truly cruel stiffings on tips. (At the end, I finally did the math on the tips I made, and I was over $20 under 15% of my sales. It wasn't just in my head that I was doing bad.)
I cried in the cooler on three separate occasions, and tried to leave early but got out 20 minutes late. I cried most of the way home in the car. And I tried to send Z a pithily pathetic text message, but discovered that when he'd sent me a particularly elaborate multi-part mms message, it had deleted the rest of my inbox, including the messages of his that I hit 'reply' to in order to send him messages, and I don't know how to type in his address, because I am indeed actually retarded.
Z made dinner, and instead of me winding up making half of it at the last minute because he's only planned one (spectacular, but only one) dish, I lay on the couch until the whole thing was on the table, and then he went in and got everything he'd forgotten.
He told me funny stories about work, and then after I'd had a shower, he actually gave me a massage. Which has never happened before.
So I think maybe I can survive this afternoon, though it's going to be grim and ridiculous and bad. Then I just have to make it through Thursday-- which will be ok, I know it will-- and then I can GO HOME. I mean home to Melrose.
