How to drive someone crazy from 1100 miles away

20 September 2006

There are no pictures.

And that is because I have been working.

The second cabled mitt has been started and ripped out three times.

Nothing else has had any progress made upon it, excepting maybe adding one measley inch onto Yoshi's sweater, which requires EIGHTEEN INCHES before dividing for the armholes (I've asked him to shrink down, he refuses outright) so is that really progress? I say no. So, no pictures.

However, I am employed, and training is kicking my ass. Why do I need to memorize the recipes for twelve different salad dressings in order to wait on a table? Why do I need to study for hours on end while pressing (with heavy starch, no less) seven hundred and forty two white oxford shirts as well as a server's apron into sharp creases (you could get a pretty nasty paper cut off my shirt sleeves, I bet) when I can't even ring in an order and the trainer just says "Here's the computer, figure it out"? And high polish on the shoes, no flyaways in the hair, earrings smaller than a nickel, no unnatural makeup (yeah, that one was easy...), stand up straight with your arms at your sides, exude confidence and knowledge about the menu, anticipate the guest's needs, and above all, don't forget that you are there for the guest, so be gracious (read: subservient).

Hmm. If anyone ever reads this, please, please please, learn to appreciate the person who brings you your food and refills your damn water glass. Saying thank you never hurt anyone.

So. I have to go run a bajillion errands now, while reciting the red wine list over and over. They'll love that while I get my oil changed and grocery shop.

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