Sunday, April 10, 2011
There are days when I love my job and I couldn't imagine ever working anywhere else (you've heard this from me before right?) There are days when my job makes me want to cry or rather, punch someone in the face.
This week was Spring Break which means the club is open from 6-6:30. Most days I worked the 6-12 shift, one day I worked from 10-6:30 and yesterday, well... we will get to that later.
On Monday, we got to work to find out that the school fridge was broken and all the milk, snacks and ranch had gone bad. The smell was disgusting and gag worthy. We put on masks, cleaned it out and survived to tell the tale.
Tuesday through Thursday were... fine. A little stressful but nothing out of the ordinary.
But Friday. Oh Friday, you bastard.
I woke up thinking I was working 6-12:30 which is not a big deal. I had planned to spend the rest of Friday in my pajamas, watching the last season of the Tudors. Instead, the girl that is supposed to take my spot, calls in 45 minutes before she was supposed to be there and my 6 hour shifted turned into a 12 hour shift.
I don't mind the hours, I don't mind the people that I was working with or the kids (we only had 40 versus the 60-70 we had the previous few days).
But holy h, I still tired.
Instead of posting anything of substance, I'm just going to leave you with this: does anyone even remember this commercial? Oh man, I loved it.
Posted by Whitney at 11:17 AM