Build it up to crash it down.

On Thursday I worked my first shift in coffee. It was a closing shift, and I was by myself. It was quiet, I knew what I was doing, and I wore normal human clothing, as opposed to the chef coat, chef pants and hat that causes me to look like everyone in the prepared foods area.

When I got home, I realized I smelled like coffee. It was glorious.

People asked me questions, to which I knew the answers. Part of the hour-long training I received was on how to use a french press coffee pot, which I already knew, since I have one myself.

And then, when I closed the area, I left. I didn't have to go help any other slow bastards anywhere else. It was 10 p.m.





So, literally the next day, I had to go back to work to finish up my week in prepared foods. They gave me a great day, so they could instantly break my spirit. I had to work in an area, of course, in which I had no experience and in which I have no idea about the protocol of how the area runs. Shitty night. Was there till, like, 11:30.

And yesterday was my last day in prepared foods. I was supposed to work in the chef's case, an area in which I do have experience and in which I do know the protocol of how things run. And even the foresight to be able to facilitate a fast and efficient close. But, no. Didn't work there yesterday. I worked, of course, in an area in which I have no experience and in which I have no idea of the protocol of the way things run. This is how the news was broken to me.

I came into work, clocked in, and turned around to see Worst Manager Ever sitting on a table with a grin on his face. "How ya doin', Jeff?"
"Ah, having my day ruined with whatever you're about to ask me to do." (Note: not my line, but rather Michael Bluth's. Works well, though.)
"Am I that predictable?"
"Well, you don't say hi to me any other time."
"We want you to work in the bistro today."
"Are you kidding? I don't know what I'm doing over there."
And it goes on like that. So cut to 15 minutes later, where I'm standing in the bistro, miserable and fuming. Does this man have no tact to speak of?

So, of course, I worked there all night, because the guy that was supposed to work there walked off the day before. However, we got out of there slightly before 11 p.m. because I kicked so much ass. The bistro closed at 8, so then I took my break and immediately started preparing to close to chef's case. I then proceeded to kick it's ass and then pee on it.


Now today I start my stay in the coffee area, and I am excited to wear jeans to work. I don't feel the soul-crushing desperation I felt when I'd go into work at the pizza place on a Sunday.



A quick note: "Brisco County, Jr." is everything I expected, and my latest Netflix correspondence is one of the greatest horror movies of all time The Reanimator.