Work is the Word

Yesterday, I had the longest work day of my life.

It started off with the usual bus trip into Mount Pearl, the very-neighbouring city to St. John's. I get to work thirty minutes early, as usual, because the bus runs every hour. Efficiency is the word.

I get into the bank, read Wicked 'til my shift starts. This overbearing woman does a skill-build on these call things, with which I have nothing to do. The shift goes by fairly quickly, each customer saying "Well, I haven't seen you before!" I always reply "Yep, I'm the new guy." Over and over. And over. Yep, I'm the new guy. Yep, I'm the new guy. Yep, your face is stupid. Yep, shut up or I'm going to close your account.

The shift ends, and I immediately go home, change, and go to the first night of my new job. The dish bitch at a cute little restaurant downtown. I'm trained by a seventeen year-old who dropped out of high-school and works as a dishwasher full-time. It was a weird experience to say the least. I got the hang of it after about fifteen minutes. Apparently the last guy, the one before me, lasted two hours. He asked where the bathroom was, got his coat, and walked out. Class is the word.

The work isn't difficult, just tiring and repetitive. I kept working steadily, and my baby-trainer kept telling me to take a breather, so it's really only fast-paced if it's ridiculously busy, which it isn't most of the time. The job requires me to continuously spray things, so my hands feel very funny today. They're confused with all the moisture and cleaning products. It's okay, hands. You can hold a liquor bottle later.

Today, I go back in for a dish shift. I would like to work up to waiter, but I don't know if that's a realistic goal. Then again, I don't know how long I want to be a human dishwasher. Money, or energy?

Conflicted is the word.

--Jam is actually the word.

Listen to: The Way I Are by Timbaland, even though the title is a grammatical headache.