Expectation
I am thinking about changing my blog title to "My Life in Irony" because my life is tres ironic. The day after my boss and I agreed that I won't have to close all by myself for at least several weeks, the same day that I went into work thinking "joy to the world, I won't be alone all night," the girl I was supposed to work with called in sick. I worked alone all night. I closed by myself.
It was funny. The first manager-type-person I saw when I arrived immediately asked, "Have you heard the bad news?" Then described how I'd be all alone. "But don't worry," she said. "If things get crazy, you can call Tom or Courtney over. And Courtney will come over at 9:30 to help you close."
"Okay."
Then I went over to the cafe where my manager is working. As soon as his eyes landed on me, he asked, "Have you heard the bad news?"
He made a few jokes, then left me. (Typical man)
For the first hour things were fine.
Then the excrement hit the vents.
Crazy mad line.
I started on the orders and tried to call Tom and Courtney because "they're there to help". Unless they're not around. Neither was picking up their phones. No superheroes to the rescue. I resigned myself to the pain. But then, Bessie, another crosstrained bookseller saw my pain and helped me. Bessie=superhero.
It was slow for the rest night.
I started closing early. Courtney came over to help. I had it all under control so, after making her do a few jobs I didn't like, I sent her away.
I like closing alone. It's really good for my obsessive compulsiveness. I heart scrubbing and mopping. Very therapeutic. It's not as much fun when someone is there with you. (But, at this point in time, I still need someone doing the jobs I don't like, because I spend a lot of time scrubbing...too long. If I needed to get out in the 30 minutes I'm supposed to have, I wouldn't make it)
My mom has just arrived at the airport. I await her arrival. I'm kinda nervous about her visit. On the grand scale of things, we don't have much to say to each other.
I'm realizing that if I can't make it as a writer, I can probably be an editor. Everyone seems to want my opinion on their work. So I give it to them. In fact, I have to meet someone at 12. Let's hope mom arrives before then.
It was funny. The first manager-type-person I saw when I arrived immediately asked, "Have you heard the bad news?" Then described how I'd be all alone. "But don't worry," she said. "If things get crazy, you can call Tom or Courtney over. And Courtney will come over at 9:30 to help you close."
"Okay."
Then I went over to the cafe where my manager is working. As soon as his eyes landed on me, he asked, "Have you heard the bad news?"
He made a few jokes, then left me. (Typical man)
For the first hour things were fine.
Then the excrement hit the vents.
Crazy mad line.
I started on the orders and tried to call Tom and Courtney because "they're there to help". Unless they're not around. Neither was picking up their phones. No superheroes to the rescue. I resigned myself to the pain. But then, Bessie, another crosstrained bookseller saw my pain and helped me. Bessie=superhero.
It was slow for the rest night.
I started closing early. Courtney came over to help. I had it all under control so, after making her do a few jobs I didn't like, I sent her away.
I like closing alone. It's really good for my obsessive compulsiveness. I heart scrubbing and mopping. Very therapeutic. It's not as much fun when someone is there with you. (But, at this point in time, I still need someone doing the jobs I don't like, because I spend a lot of time scrubbing...too long. If I needed to get out in the 30 minutes I'm supposed to have, I wouldn't make it)
My mom has just arrived at the airport. I await her arrival. I'm kinda nervous about her visit. On the grand scale of things, we don't have much to say to each other.
I'm realizing that if I can't make it as a writer, I can probably be an editor. Everyone seems to want my opinion on their work. So I give it to them. In fact, I have to meet someone at 12. Let's hope mom arrives before then.
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