The topic for my first entry presented itself most unwelcomely immediately upon my arrival to work yesterday. Little did I know that the blinking red light at the last intersection I cross on my route to work cruelly foreshadowed the lack of power that extended to include the bar. Had I recognized the warning, I might have just turned back then.
This is something that I've only had to deal with maybe a few times in my six years in the service industry, and while I consider myself a seasoned pro in the biz, I am notorious among my coworkers for being the first to lose my cool in these conditions. Why? Because the jaded self-proclaimed "beer connoisseurs" of Dallas do not care if a power loss means you have to do the same job harder which thus, takes longer; they are far from compassionate and anything but patient in these situations. So during these shifts, my tips suffer, my spirit dies and the phrase "fuck my life" runs through my head repeatedly.
Several people leave due to our limited menu, then we lose draught beers to heat. Half of the computers come back up---a much appreciated miracle---but all in all, the shift predictably proved tiresome and unrewarding.
The quaint and simple ways of the 1950s have no place in the fast-paced modern Metroplex. Sure, our reliance on computers can always be criticized with the hypocritical statement of "the world managed without them before." And yeah, it did. But waitresses in the 1950s weren't averaging $1500 sales on weekends.
My sister works the day shift today and just sent a text to let me know that the power is back on. It's a good thing too because I'm not sure my will could withstand another trip back to the past tonight.
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