My Place of Work and Assorted Crap.
Well, today I shall talk about my job..
Seeing as I used to work there alot and now I'm back there...
Me and Bev attempted to get a job in this restaurant, but they said come back at 15. So I did.
I had to go in on my birthday (weirdly the same day as the manager's) and practice carrying plates and go over the rules and.. stuff.
So, every week, at 7, I had to go work. Scary.. Work..
I serve food and stuff. I try not to spill food over people. I hit people with plates.
Well, it's better than a paper round... £5 an hour - I'm not complaning...
It payed for my PC upgrades that me and my grampa fitted - and they work.
I'm typing this on a shitty old keyboard and reading my amazing words of death on a nice 19" TFT screen. =P
I should actually be typing my science coursework out now.. But I got bored and thought I would mention me again.. And my amazing stress - also this is more interesting than the "Conductivity on an Ionic Compound" Well. Maybe.
So, it's a cool place to work - the people are nice, they give me money.
Before New Year, it was alot of work.. about 17hours a week... Friday night, Saturday morning, Saturday night and Sunday morning.. Sometimes Sunday night too.. I don't work there much now.. But there we are.
That shitty 123 advert is on again. Bastards.
La la la la laaa, everything will be alright.. The Killers..
Hmm, err, work, yes. It's busy..
I begin by serving soup bowls, yes. Bowls. Empty bowls. I learnt quickly not to carry too many.. I left the kitchen carrying more than I probably should have, and instantanelously began to feel a hot, fire sensation on my chest, so I started giving the bowls out quicker.. Some people like to rest their arms where their bowl should be, so I have to put on a happy, smiley face and kindly ask them to move, increasing my voice as they try to ignore the evil waiter of death.
Right before I melt into a bubbling blob of formal clothing and soup bowls they realize I am there and move. Ha. Then they eat the soop. Yum yum.
I then go to the CO2 room. Very refreshing coolness.
Sam.
Seeing as I used to work there alot and now I'm back there...
Me and Bev attempted to get a job in this restaurant, but they said come back at 15. So I did.
I had to go in on my birthday (weirdly the same day as the manager's) and practice carrying plates and go over the rules and.. stuff.
So, every week, at 7, I had to go work. Scary.. Work..
I serve food and stuff. I try not to spill food over people. I hit people with plates.
Well, it's better than a paper round... £5 an hour - I'm not complaning...
It payed for my PC upgrades that me and my grampa fitted - and they work.
I'm typing this on a shitty old keyboard and reading my amazing words of death on a nice 19" TFT screen. =P
I should actually be typing my science coursework out now.. But I got bored and thought I would mention me again.. And my amazing stress - also this is more interesting than the "Conductivity on an Ionic Compound" Well. Maybe.
So, it's a cool place to work - the people are nice, they give me money.
Before New Year, it was alot of work.. about 17hours a week... Friday night, Saturday morning, Saturday night and Sunday morning.. Sometimes Sunday night too.. I don't work there much now.. But there we are.
That shitty 123 advert is on again. Bastards.
La la la la laaa, everything will be alright.. The Killers..
Hmm, err, work, yes. It's busy..
I begin by serving soup bowls, yes. Bowls. Empty bowls. I learnt quickly not to carry too many.. I left the kitchen carrying more than I probably should have, and instantanelously began to feel a hot, fire sensation on my chest, so I started giving the bowls out quicker.. Some people like to rest their arms where their bowl should be, so I have to put on a happy, smiley face and kindly ask them to move, increasing my voice as they try to ignore the evil waiter of death.
Right before I melt into a bubbling blob of formal clothing and soup bowls they realize I am there and move. Ha. Then they eat the soop. Yum yum.
I then go to the CO2 room. Very refreshing coolness.
Sam.
posted by DairyMilkDevil @ 5:27 pm
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