can I make that a large?
August 28. 2000
the apartment, finished:
Ceramic candle holders made by my Dad. When they're lit, it's beautiful.
My weird stuff (observe skulls, river stones, shells and candles).
I had my first day of work today, and I have to say, it's going to be like a breath of fresh air after the job from hell this summer. I am just so pysched to finally work in a big ass bookstore.
The management are a really nice bunch of people, very informal, and I was glad for that. They don't seem to be assholes about breaks and lunches like everyone was at the job from hell. My shift started with a three hour orientation, a store tour, and filling out various pieces of paperwork. Two other women were starting with me, Linda, an older woman who was assigned to the kids' section, and Suzanne, who was assigned to the cafe, and, as I found out later, wasn't the brightest crayon in the box.
I'm working in the Barnes and Noble cafe, which, in case you haven't ever been to one, serves Starbucks coffee and various baked goods and soups. Joe, my manager, is a young guy and is constantly moving, intense and kinetic. I attribute this to him being the only one staffing the cafe for the last few months. Needless to say, he was glad to see me and Suzanne show up.
He's a rather amusing individual, short and slight with dark hair, and a small tattoo on his left forearm that's some sort of japanese character. He managed to mention, in the first day I met him, that he had a one month old son at home named Joe Junior. He was obviously enamoured of fatherhood, which scared me a bit. I mean, he's only 22 and he has a son? Yeesh. I couldn't imagine having to care for a child three years from now, or ever.
Learning how to make all the drinks was a rather challenging prospect, and learning how to use the cash register and ring everything up correctly was even harder. We had a recipe sheet listing all the drinks and their ingredients, and looking at it made me feel like I was bartending.
I pleased to say that I don't have much problem anymore looking people in the eye when they come up to the counter and saying, "Hello, how may I help you?". That was something I had a problem with for the longest time, a shyness that proved detrimental whenever I was trying to sell my art at a show. Whether this is from lack of confidence or just shyness, I don't know, but I'm glad I'm getting over it.
One Year Ago:
all writings, (c) 1999-2000, BRR