The alarm rings too early for a Sunday, and I really hate that sound. Although not entirely, since it is a song I rather like, but it is the principle of the thing. Naturally, I hit snooze. Once. Twice. Three times and I really have to get up because it is almost eight and I am going to be very late for work.
So, I get up (cursing like a sailor, of course) and take a quick shower. If it can even be called that. I put my hair up in a ponytail, get dressed, stuff my apron in my bag (is it even clean?), grab a really quick bite to eat, and run.
I'm late, but it's ok because I know which machine is 5 minutes behind the actual time and I clock in at 9am, exactly. I greet my coworkers, put on my shoes and apron. I greet my coworker again, because they are slightly deaf and clean the main windows. Then, because it is Sunday and there is no cutlery wrapped, I do some roll-ups. An entire bin in less than 15 minutes. I hate the small napkins so much.
Then, people start to leave, the regulars. There is a man who looks like Nixon and has a palate for faux wood since there is more salt and paper sprinkled on the table, than on his actual meal. Thus, the morning rhythm begins. Agonizingly slow for hours, but the calm does not last. It never does. Around eleven, everyone and their mother seem to flood the gates and god, there are more people arriving than leaving. So I am stuck on cutlery duty –polish, dry and roll– for a good 30 minutes before people leave. Then the chaos ensues, and really, as I finish cleaning one table, two others take its place.
There is this frankly annoying quality about the customers. Regardless of the fact that there are three free tables cleaned and set with cups and cutlery, they seem compelled to sit at the table that I have not reached. Why? Oh, because other customers have been nagging me for the past hour to get them more coffee, bills, or napkins. All the while I stifle a smile and try really hard not to shout to buzz off, because I am a busser and not a waitress and I am not paid to deal with this shi--
I keep cleaning tables, running around like a headless chicken because all of our 500 cups are missing, and what happened to the two bins of cutlery I had prepared? I hate the lunchtime rush. I miss the other girl who helped me out.
It is finally one, and thank God closing time is near. I see my boss take "THE LIST" out. And make a bee line to place my order in, and I don't really care that what I eat will have copious amounts of sugar. I need to wake up. It is 1:30 and a party of ten walks in and I swear. We are supposed to close in half an hour, I am supposed to eat. While the assigned "last tables" waitress takes their order, I clean another 5 tables. I see my food and sit down. I usually chat with my boss, that lovely woman, about the new movie releases and she tells me that her daughter has undertaken yet another trip. I begin to ponder the merits of teaching primary kids, but after having witnessed a rather spectacular tantrum thrown by an 11 year old (during which I pondered the ethical consequences of throwing her out of the window, and decided that was Not Nice), I decide against it. My other coworkers joins us for our lunch, and we wolf down our food, we just want to get home.
At 3:00PM (well past closing), there is still people and I cannot finish vacuuming until they leave. So I take the biggest, and loudest vacuum out –even if it hurts my back, but I am tired and grumpy– and get as close as I can to where the last people are sitting. Basking in their glaring faces and putting on my best shit-eating grin. Why yes, I am being loud and rude but you know that we close at two so beat it. I have a life, and I hope karma gets you and that you find yourself working overtime because your clients refused to leave you alone after-hours.
They get the hint and we finish our job. It is almost four and I want to sleep, really badly. SoI clock out, get my pay check and walk home.
Once I get home, I say hi to my parents and watch a couple of movies, by the third I have passed out. I get up and go to my bed.
It is 5 o'clock on Monday morning and the alarm rings. I hate everything.
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