Well, I've got the first week under my belt at the new job. About a week and a half now.
And I can't say that I love it.
First of all, it's a lot harder than I imagined it would be. And I don't mean the labor; I've never been afraid of working hard (and damn, waitresses work hard). But it's the multi-tasking part that gets me... (And all these years my cover letters always said what great multitasking skills I have... Ha!)...
One table needs desserts (which I have to put together), the other table is waiting for me to take their order, that other table needs to be set up and their drink orders taken, oh geez- I've got two giant food orders waiting at the window to go out to two other tables and the cooks are yelling my name- which tables again? who gets what?- oh shit- I've got to put their sides together (coleslaw, salads, veggies), another table is waiting on their bill, another table is waiting on their drink order that I have to get (and I have to make a milkshake for them somewhere in there), oh shit- the first table is still waiting for those desserts I have to put together..... Holy. Friggin. Shit. I. can't. Do it. I honestly don't know how those girls (and guys) do it. I really don't. I don't know if I'll ever be able to, with time, with experience, or whatever. It's just too much. I fall apart. I can't.
Secondly, I'm not making the tips I thought I would, unless it's a weekend. Weeknights I'm making very little. Not nearly enough. And weekends I'm working my ass off, and making more, but still not what I thought I would.
Thirdly, I was supposed to be close to full time, and so far my first two weeks I'll only be getting around 25 hours (yes Gayle, I know, I can hear you now...).  :)
Also, I'm working all nights, including Friday and Saturday nights. That's kind of a bummer. I don't have a kid at home anymore, so I don't have to worry about seeing him, but all nights is still kind of a drag. I never see my boyfriend anymore. Between his schedule with the kids and my work schedule, it's nearly impossible. If only we lived together. But he won't move up here (travel with the kids to their schools down there every day wouldn't make sense), and I won't move down there (because then I'd really never see my boy). It seems we're doomed. Sigh. Anyway... And forget about band practice. That's been impossible, too.
And so, the lack of hours and the lack of tips and my lack of excitement about it means that either I look for something else, full time, or I suck it up and stay there and get a second part time job.
Either way, I can't afford to keep on this way. And the only way to make more money is to take on more tables, or wait for the busy season to kick in. And with how difficult I find it now (and difficult is an understatement), I don't even think I can handle any more than what I do now.
I'm a great bartender, but I make a terrible waitress.

I knew eventually I'd wait on people I knew. And I always wondered what that would be like... Last night I waited on a woman I graduated high school with. She looked vaguely familiar to me. She knew who I was, even remembered my last name. We exchanged some small talk, the typical "how've you been", and suddenly I found myself needing to explain how I was managing the Brookside and how it closed, and how I got two other great job offers, but chose this because I was so used to the service industry... and I felt funny... embarrassed? As she talked of how she noticed as she drove by the Brook (on her way to their camp on Jacob Buck) that it had closed... And I thought to myself, here I am, 25 years later, and look how far I've come, I'm your waitress now.
I know, I know. Who gives a shit what other people think, bla bla bla.
But I thought it myself. I suffered that stigma myself. And I didn't like it. I'm pretty sure I'll never get over that. That will be a tough one to live with if I continue with this job.


The dog.
I've gotten kind of attached to this dog. Even though she's a bit of a pain in the ass. She's got more "quirks" than I care to work with, or even have time to. But I kinda like her.
The problem is, I don't know if I'll have time for her. If I start working full time, and try to continue with the band, and/or take a second job, how will I possibly have time? She'll live in her crate most of the time. How is that fair? And then there's the cost. I'll never make what I was making at the Brook; I'll be on a tight budget. I'm not sure I'll be able to afford much extra. Sigh.
Today is the two week mark. I'm supposed to decide whether or not I'm going to adopt her. They told me I could have more time. I'm not sure if that'll just make it harder for me to give her back, if that's what I should do. I just don't know. I shouldn't have done this in the first place. Stupid dog. Stupid me.

As always, I miss my boy. I find myself reminiscing every day, about when he used to stay with me, and how close we used to be. And wishing things were still like that. I wish things were different.

I find myself wishing and daydreaming about a lot of things.
I wish the Brook were still open. I wish my boyfriend would move up here. I wish my boy would stay with me. I wish I could afford and had time for lots of dogs.

If only wishes came true.