The Gimp Goes to Work April 13, 2004 - 6:19 p.m.

I worked today.

Mom came by last night after work and said they needed people to work in the kitchen. No interaction with customers, just my thing.

She said she wasn't sure what I'd be doing; could be washing dishes, getting dinner plates ready, or putting bread in a basket.

I reluctantly said sure. I know I'm capable of doing that crap. Obviously, it's no-brainer work. But the idea of a new environment with unknown people and unknown situations and not truly knowing what I was going to be doing... it always makes me uneasy. I have confidence in myself as far as doing the job, it's the newness that freaks me out.

After hearing her yammer for awhile longer, despite having already agreed to work, she went to take a shower. And I immediately started feeling sick.

My stomach started churning and twisting and had that feeling like I was going to either pee myself or vomit. Then there was the aches and the lump in my throat and the nervous twitching and the tenseness and the fidgeting... it's not pretty.

So I came in here to tell Chris I was leaving so that I could work the next day and I was going to mention some other things. But I didn't get past telling him about work. I started tearing up and my heartrate was going crazy and I was fidgeting like a crack fiend. Then he tried telling me it was okay and it wasn't a big deal.

Well, duh!

I realize it wasn't a big deal. I realize the job itself is a complete cake walk. I realize this reaction is completely stupid and overly dramatic. But I can't seem to stop it. I'm in the middle of what some people might call a panic attack, and I myself am saying how fucking stupid this is.

It's very much like, I could assume, being possessed yet being fully aware of it. Like having multiple personalities, but having one of those personalities commentating on the others' actions à la MST3K. Like watching a movie, from behind the screen.

It's all kinds of fucked up and stupid, but I can't seem to do anything to stop it. I just force myself to deal with it. After all, do I have any other choice?

My mom didn't notice I was freaking out, I was able to hide it from her, but she did notice I wasn't too thrilled with the idea. I think it's my standard reaction to work lately. So she starts in with her typical 'You don't have to go if you don't want to' that I hear every single time we work.

That always makes it worse. Every time I hear that, I only think of how much I don't want to go but I have no excuse not to. Like, if I decided not to go, it would only be selfish and juvenile. And if I were always given that option and didn't go simply based on the fact that I was nervous or plain didn't want to, then I would never go. If someone said 'if you don't want to' every time and I answered based on that and no other factors, then my response would always be something like 'see ya later'.

Someone gives me an out, and I'll gladly take it.

If it weren't for the guilt of being a useless bum.

I have to wonder if that isn't her intention to begin with. I think it may be her passive aggressive way of guilting me into it. Reverse psychology... tricky, tricky.

So the day wasn't too horrible. I was helping wash dishes all day. All of four hours. The waiters would come in and bring their trays stacked full of plates and glasses and set them on a rack. Then I would grab them, throw away any food and make sure there wasn't too much gunk on them, then pass them over to the guy running the dishwasher. All as quickly as possible in a small space with the person who was helping but kept stepping right in the way or not paying attention as she backed up. She was really helpful, don't get me wrong, but it was annoying when she would step right in front of me or back up and bump into me... while I'm holding a huge stack of heavy dishes. Luckily, I never dropped anything.

Apparently everyone was impressed with us. The day prior, there was an issue with people not even having any space to put their trays, because the dishwashers were either super slow or not there. Today, it seemed that everyone was complimenting us and thanking us for doing such a great job. On the way home, my mom was telling me they were even talking about how great we were keeping up, as they were out clearing the tables.

They wanted me to come back tomorrow. The main dishwasher was almost begging me. And despite my back really hurting and my hands being waterlogged, I considered it. But I was still hoping for an excuse to get out of it. I felt bad, but was also relieved, when my mom found out she had to work somewhere else and wouldn't have time to bring me home if I did work tomorrow.

Now if my back would just stop hurting and I could decide where/if I'll work this Saturday.

Next weekend is the horse show in Lexington. I'll be sure to take some Benadryl this year, and not wear my contacts.

.: Googles .: Registered! .: For Sale .: My Store

Design :. Picture :. Trading Card :. Host :.