I feel slightly awful about this, since it meant I held a job (summer jobs don't count) for less than like, three months, and left without REALLY needing to. In my world, the importance of loyalty to a job is relatively close to the importance of sticking with one's spouse. I realize that's going a little overboard. My mother-in-law, a counselor, cut to the chase and said "you just don't like disappointing people." This is true, but made me sound like a dependent mental case. Combined with the fact she is suspicious about the fact I remember virtually nothing of my childhood before about age 12, I begin to think Something May Be Wrong With Me. Well, hey, free counseling! All I have to do is be nice to their son, which is easy.
I googled "free counseling" and also ended up
with an awful lot of pictures of Lady Gaga.
Anyhow, I quit my waitressing job since Garrett's school/work schedules are roughly 8am-5pm, and my waitressing schedule was 4 or 5pm-midnight. Trying to combine those meant I never got enough sleep, which made me sad and cranky, and we never got to hang out together.
But I didn't mean to get a new job. Actually, I never even applied for it.
Lauren, a girl I used to work with at IBI, messaged me on FB and was all "hey! remember me? I'm a manager at [this restaurant]* and we need another manager and I remembered you were looking for a job last time we talked and I told the owner you are awesome and he should interview you, so will you come in for an interview?"
Basically that's what happened. And since I had extremely fond memories of Lauren, and my husband wanted original chicken sandwiches and real lemonade, and also to see me sometimes, I went to the interview.
*hint: the corporation is owned by a christian and rhymes with 'Hick-in-L.A.'
The owner is great, and he and his wife are actually GCC alums, so we roughly understand one-another's backgrounds. If I joined their crew I would be prep manager, which meant I would get to be in charge of ordering food and prepping salads and wraps and things like that in the morning, and my hours would be 7 or 8am-2 or 3pm, meaning I would be a third done with my shift before we even opened, and even if I had to deal with customers directly, and they were awful, it wouldn't affect my pay! So I could go in in the mornings, listen to Pandora, and quietly make things for people. It would be awesome.
Bono chick.
I fretted for another week and a half about whether to quit my current job and then--as in my decision to marry Garrett--I looked at the thing logically, realized it made sense; that I wasn't going to feel comfortable about it until I just made the decision, and so I made the decision. And immediately I felt better.
The downside was that the chickens needed me to start right away, but I still needed to give my two-week's notice to my waitressing job. This meant that I ended up working all three jobs (you didn't forget about the horses I play with, did you?) for like, two and a half weeks. Yes, I worked with the chickens or horses every morning, and then at the waitressing job every night. Uck.
The extra half-week was because the general manager of my waitressing job wasn't working the same time I was for almost a week, and I was insistent that I confess to him in person that I was abandoning him.
He took it well.
He was sad, but I made sure he understood that it wasn't him, it was me.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I love you. But I love my husband more than I love you."
"I understand," he said, looking down and kicking a slimy cucumber slice under the salad prep table.
"Call me if you ever need anything."
"Okay," I said.
So I had my last day there on Thursday night, and it's just going to be my horses, husband, and dead chickens from here on out. Actually, one of my new co-workers raises live chickens and I save her the (in a human's mind) undesirable ends of carrots and lettuce-heads and things to take home to them, so I get fuzzy feelings from that, too. I love chickens whether they be dead or alive or unfertilized.
Me and a silky chicken, circa 2011.
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