A Day In The Life Of....My Sundays

8:00 am: I wake up get a glass of water and talk to man-pants for a while. I ask him to flip on Friends because it is my go to fall asleep show these days. I wish I didn't have to have a lot of noise to sleep. 

11:00 am: I stop lucid dreaming and am finally just awake. Does anyone else lucid dream? Mine are always boring and about mundane things. I wish that wasn't true. I guess the point is that I can change that? Mine don't really work that way. I am just perfectly aware I am sleeping and can change the dreams direction, but not overall situation. Anyway....

12:00 pm: I make myself some lunch and crawl back into bed and eat it while watching Friends.

1:00 pm: Somewhere around here I dozed back off. Paul was being super cuddly and I was literally spooning him while he licked my cheek. Apparently sand paper lulls me to sleep. Along with noise. I'm a strange one.

2:15 pm: Get in the shower, put on work uniform, let out the dog, blah blah blah.

3:00 pm: Arrive at work. I am immediately informed that all of our reservations fall between 3:30 pm and 4:00 pm. The entire line has to be gone by 3:00 because they all work another job at 4:00 pm. Two of them (normally 5 is considered the BARE MINIMUM) can stay indefinitely. By 4:00 pm, I need to have calamari portioned, mashed potatoes made, a line check done (which takes a seasoned sous chef an hour, it takes me much longer), bread veal marsala, cook off meatballs and make 4 trays of lasagna. By myself. Because the other two sous chefs on the clock have to be on the line.

4:30 pm: full rail of tickets and THREE line cooks are 15 minutes late. I learn that the opening sous hasn't done any of the orders yet that all have to be in by 5, so he is off the line and out of commission. I start calling the guys who aren't there, all go straight to voice mail.

5:00 pm: We basically figure out that three of the people on the schedule tonight are not coming in. I am on pantry solo (it was my first day of training on the station, so, yeah) and the other closing sous is working pasta. 

I HAVE BLOCKED EVERYTHING BETWEEN 5 & 9. Let's just call it a very brutal four hours of torture.

9:00 pm: I start closing the station, based on how most restaurants close. Nobody seems to care one way or another. Normally inventory would be started by now. Nope. On a side note: solo with nothing but a book of specs for the station, I ran it and not once was a ticket waiting on something from me. I will go ahead and pat myself on the back after somebody finds me SEVEN MILLION Xanax to calm me down.

9:05 pm: Management mass exodus with absolutely no "are you guys going to be ok?" sentiment of any kind. Awesome. I feel the love.

9:30 pm: AGM orders me random food. I have a vague recollection of eating it while frantically flipping pans and wrapping everything in plastic.

10:00 pm: Inventory begins. This is my new Sunday gig. Inventory. Yay! I kind of go off on how poorly tonight went and how every single thing that I had on my plate couldn't be accomplished because of the am sous chef and crappy time management of the entire day staff.

11:00 pm: Dishwasher starts freaking out about dumpsters. We walk out back to discover the ASS HOLE who stocked the bar today put all of the boxes in the dumpster without breaking them down. Have to remove all the boxes from the dumpster and break them down and then put them back in. Still isn't room for all of the trash. 

12:00 am: My fellow sous has taken like 6 smoke breaks and I am ready to kill him. AGM and sous are also having a fart contest I am sick of being a victim of. 

1:30 am: AGM finishes counting his inventory and hogs the computer to enter it. We are at a standstill. I start absently rambling about nothing because I might be delirious. 

2:30 am: WE ARE DONE. Almost. Let's spend 25 minutes looking at the report that we are going to do NOTHING to fix or change. Hi, tomorrow. There is time for that then.

3:00 am: I clock out. FINALLY I clock out. Fellow sous has a million things still to do and I frankly don't feel bad because he was dragging ass all night and slowing me down. I worked 58 hours this week.

4:00 am: Man-pants wakes up to get water and is sick as fuck. We had been texting on and off and I thought his declaration of having the plague of death was him just being a baby. Nope. Sick as fuck.

4:45 am: Short Dog projectile vomits chunks all over the very cream colored carpet in our hallway. I spend an hour trying to get it out. It just now looks like we are the most disgusting people ever. 

5:00 am: Some fucking punk kid decides it will be funny to throw mulch at the front door (the room I am sitting in is on the street and therefore it is clear that a light is on from the street.) I watched him through the peep hole for a while to make sure he was just a stupid kid and then proceeded to old man "get off my damn lawn" him.

5:45 am: I decide to write a blog post about the terribly shit day I had because, well, I am wide awake and the entire free world is sound asleep and I am bored. 

6:00 am: PEOPLE ARE ON FACEBOOK I HAVE SOMETHING TO DO NOW

Tomorrow is one of my two days off and if last week is similar at all, I will sleep most of the day. And I have to be at work at 8 am on Tuesday. 

This job might kill me. On a positive note, I watched the sunrise over the city last week. Maybe that will be my Monday morning moment of zen. Watching the sun rise while sipping on some sleepy time tea heavy on the bourbon and watching Friends until I fall into a fitful sleep wherein I incorporate their shenanigans into my dreams and wake up confused. At 3pm.