Christmas isn’t something that’s all around me…
…it’s something I’ve stepped in and gotten on my shoes. At least that’s how I feel as related to the people I’ve been around for the last few days. Save last night’s excursion into alchohol-induced euphoria at the Olive Garden. (Try their stuffed chicken marsala. Fucking phenominal.) I had a good time then.
I don’t know…maybe it’s having worked 70 hours in six days. That could be the funk I’m in. I know it is *not* depression. It feels alot LIKE depression, but this is kind of like a Long Island Iced Tea that is missing something, maybe a twist of lemon or a half a jigger of crown. You know it’s *close*, but not what it says it is. So don’t worry, kids. I’m not about to go and do something stupid.
Besides. 😉 I’m too narcissistic. hehehe…
WIth that said, I wish this shit would just end! I’m not sleeping well…or nearly enough. I can’t concentrate, and I have nightmares about trays of food coming out of kitchens all wrong and mean people at tables shouting obscenities at me while they’re wearing santa hats.
I guess that’s the relative oxymoronic image of the season for me. People in Santa Hats or fucking Rudolph sweaters (the reindeer, not the mayor–though both have very shiny noses), staring up from me at a table, complaining as if *I PERSONALLY* went into the kitchen and incorrectly cooked their food. My response to them is the same as it is to the people whose orders our restaurant (that shall remain nameless) *doesn’t* screw up.
“For what” the customer asks.
“I dunno. Something’s gonna be wrong. Merry Christmas.”
Then, when their receipt prints out the 800-Tell-us-how-we-did number, I point it out to them, make sure the wife files it in her wallet by the checkbook, and send them on their way with instructions to “tell them how you really reacted and how everything really was!”
Bye-bye average of 68% positive. 🙂
I guess I’m a dangerous kind of disgruntled worker–not postally dangerous. PR’ly dangerous. I’ll tell people the truth, regardless of how it affects me or my employer. Call it a character flaw.
New Year’s resolution 1: Work on that.