Despite being a student at a journalism school currently ranked third in the country (below only Columbia and Northwestern), I can't seem to get a grasp on seating charts and menu descriptions.
Thats right. I failed.
I already loathe my job. I spent $75 of money I don't have to spend on the uniform, which makes me look like a man. And as sexy as androgony is on Kate Moss and the like, looking like a member of the Men in Black is not too appealing. And, the girl with whom I was training copped a major attitude when I failed. She is the second person I've met there to get a superior attitude. Now, I never look down on anybody...unless they are looking down on me. Despite my manager's weak attempts to flaunt his knowledge of Thompson and Bukowski, I can't help but hear that little voice in the back of my mind that says, "You're JUST a restaraunt manager." Of course, this was after he pointedly made a comment at me saying, "If you get pregnant, we officially can't fire you." Thaaanks.
Honestly, though, I was happy to have failed. It means I got to go home early. And my night was fabulous.
Will IM'ed me and we spoke for 3 hours! WoOt!!! And, we sort of-officially are hanging out on Friday to see Die Hard 4. The details of the conversation are a bit hazy, as most good things are after they happen. But, like I said, we chatted for three hours about anything and everything. Who would have thought that a random hook-up at a party could turn into something this good?
Well..hopefully this good. I shouldn't jinx myself. My luck has been off and on for the past year. I am not getting too hopeful, but I can't help letting this be the thing that gets me through my second day of training.