As far as days go, today was not a nice day. It was 8 hours of non-stop testing of my extremely limited patience. I was on edge the entire time, and found myself barely containing all the snide comments that kept popping into my head. I didn’t want to be there, but I showed up. I’ve discovered already, from 8 hours of bonding, that I strongly dislike [hate] two of my shift managers, and can only just tolerate most of the other higher ups. In fact, the people I do like are other employees who transferred with me from the other restaurant that I am already somewhat familiar with. A few of the other newbies I’ve met seem like they might be alright, but unfortunately that doesn’t make much of a difference when you find yourself wanting to scream at the people who have the authority to order you around.
These aren’t the joking, happy-go-lucky people I’m used to, or the harmless girls chatting away in Spanish, these are people who go to work and hate their job and whine about how difficult it is (when it isn’t…). You know how many breaks I was supposed to have today? Three. I was supposed to have two tens and a half an hour lunch break. The place was so crowded and busy I literally never got to stop moving for the entirety of my stay. My shift manager, who was there barely three hours before she started claiming she was going to faint, she got her three breaks, even though she is fucking useless and had to ask me time and time again how to make everything. “What goes on this again?”, while the rest of the while making all these comments about how I should do it such and such way instead. Yeah, as if she knows and I should listen to her, when she can’t remember after the fifth time I’ve told her, how many slices of cheese go on a particular sandwich. This woman is supposed to be my superior.
Know how many breaks I got? One. A ten that was spent helping one of the girls in the front figure out how to work the new registers and trying to get my new clock in number to function properly. I got sent on errands today, which all went terribly, because no one knows where anything is, and the people who do were too ‘important’ to bother helping me out. I must have wasted a half an hour having to find things, frantically digging through boxes in the cramped freezer. I even made desserts today that I had never made before. No one bothered to tell me how, so I ended up having to use a chart I found tacked up on one of the walls. I don’t even want to think how long it took me to find all the things that went in it, along with the containers, the spoons, and the toppings. Then when I did get it all sorted out, a shift manager comes over asking me where I’ve been and why I’m taking so long and leaving all the fruit sitting out. Oh, gee, I dunno, maybe I was making the motherfucking desserts like I was told to? Maybe I asked you to show me where the ingredients were but all you did was say ‘in the freezer’ as though I didn’t already fucking know that.
One thing that went well though was with one of the managers who showed up. He was supposed to be correcting us and helping us improve on our efficiency. Instead, because we were so swamped, he spent the whole time helping us out after he got told not to. Finally, they gave up telling him what to do because the extra set of hands made up for all the time lost while the machinery went insane. The hours really blurred together, and a lot of the people I know trickled in. Eventually I was surrounded by people I get on with well enough, and it made me relax a little. I was just counting down the minutes until my shift was over, and when it was, all composure was lost on me.
I went home and gritted my teeth. I had to leave the kitchen several times to keep myself in check, to keep myself from yelling at my parents to get the fuck away from me. My mother has a tendency to hover in the kitchen when I do, which is probably an unconscious thing, but it drives me nuts. It makes me crazy because I don’t want people to see what I am doing. Lately it’s been the same everyday: mindlessly eating. Constantly cooking, taking a few bites then throwing things away because nothing tastes good to me. Everything is bland. I pace around the kitchen, then stand in the pantry staring at boxes for minutes at a time, on the verge of hysterical. I’m unhinged. I’m all fucked in the head, and I don’t know how to raise my mood. Nothing I does improves it, it just grows darker and darker the longer I am conscious.
We’ll see how tomorrow goes. I have work after my appointment, and that might make it impossible for me to pick up my prescription should my doctor be compliant. I need it now. As soon as fucking possible. I’ll do whatever I have to do in order to get it and begin getting a handle on this misery. I know it’s not going to change overnight; that’s not what I expect. But I believe that just having the pills, knowing they are there will at least make me a little hopeful. I’ll be able to endure until they do have time to take effect. Even the slightest alteration in my mood will do, I think, at least for a time.