crackin' it
i think it’s high time that i write about my one-night-a-week job (and sometimes more) at the crack. what to say? where to start?-----------------------------------------------------------
well, i started this post almost two months ago—i haven’t been into work at the cb since november 30th or so—and just today (today!) a manager called and asked what my intentions are. i’m not sure what to do.
i have thought a lot about just quitting. after all, it’s only one night a week, roughly only 120 bones a month, and, after not being on the schedule for six weeks in a row, now seemed like a good time to end it. i even typed a letter of resignation and had it sealed, ready to deliver the next time i was there.
but then doug and i went to eat there a couple nights ago, and the thought of quitting did not settle very well. the next day i tore up the letter. yes working there is physically (and emotionally) draining, yes i abhor the uniform and getting covered in eight different salad dressings and coffee spills and smelling like a kitchen, yes the kids i work with care about nothing except satisfying themselves with sex and alcohol and crappy music, but there’s something about the crack. there’s just something about it. i think there has to be some kind of subliminal brainwashing that occurs during training that makes you never want to leave but also simultaneously hate the place. i mean seriously, after serving there and being gone for almost two years and then going BACK to work there again?! like a dog to its own vomit.
i do like working hard. (more than $2.14 an hour might help me like it more, but you know.) i like rushing and having to multi-task. i like the camaraderie shared among co-workers—the do or die mentality of helping one another. i even like putting on my country fresh face (and accent?!) and schmoozing with the customers—oh, excuse me—guests. i do like people—i really do, but i think part of why the job is so appealing to me is because once my black-shoed feet hit “the floor,” i am an actress. their needs are all that matters to me, and even though i may be pulling a fourteen hour day, i am all smiles and don’t have a care in the world except if they want white or brown gravy on their mashed potatoes and chicken fried steak.
i’m just not sure what to do.
my problem lately has been just sheer laziness.
maybe i’ll try to cure myself by going in tonight.
(but i doubt it.)
suggestions? comments?
by the way, here’s a list of the number codes for the cb vegetables, just in case you want to impress your server the next time you order (and i swear to you that if you ever work there, these will NEVER leave your brain—well, unless you have alzheimer’s):
1=corn
2=green beans
3=carrots
4=okra
5=turnip greens
6=coleslaw
7=pinto beans
8=mashed potatoes
8b=8 with brown gravy
8w=8 with country gravy
9=fried apples
0=dumplings
all for now @
11:43 AM
3 comment(s):
crack? crack... cracker barrel! gotcha. i'll take 4, 8b, and 9 please.
By
Suzanne, at
11:52 AM
hey suzanne--did you get the e-mail i sent you? it was in response to your last comment to me. :)
freddie--thank you.
By
rebstar, at
1:36 PM
yes, i did. i'm sorry i haven't replied to it yet. i wanted to be able to write more than i have had time to. i'm very disappointed not to get to see you this weekend. we will definitely have to plan on that cup of coffee sometime. :)
By
Suzanne, at
5:46 PM
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