2004-10-12 - 12:46 a.m.
I've had a career change, yet again. Actually, more of a modification. I am now officially a waitress! I've actually kind of always wanted to wait tables, but last night the opportunity fortuitously presented itself. I was hanging out at my local, and it was packed. I'm sure this owed to a large number of factors -- it was a Sunday night of a holiday weekend, and it is, of course, Salem, MA, in October, so there were lots of people around to begin with -- and it was karaoke night. Always a big winner. Anyhow, there was only one cocktail waitress, my friend Joanna, and two bartenders, and they were absolutely slammed the entire night. So much so that they didn't even have time to clear bottles for the last two hours. Needless to say, by closing time, the place was a mess. So, being the nice person that I am, I started to help out clearing the place. And of course, they weren't going to turn down the help. I think we cleared over a dozen cases of bottles, nevermind the glasses. And then there was the cleanup...Anyhow, about halfway through cleaning (I knew everyone that was working last night, so it wasn't like I was just some weirdo who started clearing tables, in case you were wondering), Joanna jokingly asked me if I wanted a job. I said sure, I could use the extra cash, and she said I was hired. And that was that. Turns out a new girl was supposed to be starting last night. She had trained the day before, and then was supposed to start at one yesterday. She called in in the morning, and asked if they minded if she came in at four instead, and they told her that was cool. She never showed up. So here they were, looking for someone to replace this idiot who never showed up, and I happened to be there. Funny how fate works. Tonight was my first night on the job. I guess I was supposed to be trained for three days, but at the end of the shift Joanna told me I didn't need to be trained anymore (since I was essentially doing her job for the majority of the evening and was totally comfortable and competent with everything). My first shift is Friday! Yay!
In other news, I am the proud owner of four tickets to game five of the ALCS. This is the game that will be played this coming Sunday, provided the Red Sox don't sweep the Yankees in four games. I'm having a crisis of conscience about what to do with these tickets. On one hand, I have about twenty people (all men, oddly enough) who are petitioning to be my new best friends, if they aren't already my current best friends, in order to score the tickets. The problem is, each ticket cost me $150. The other hand in this argument is my bank account. I know for a fact that I could most likely get between $500 and $1000 dollars for each of these tickets. Don't go hyperventilating now, I'm only contamplating selling two of them. You must be an idiot if you think I'm not going to this game. So the toss-up is, do I have my friends pay $150 (or more, should they volunteer to do so), and take three of them with me, or do I single out one favorite person and take them, and sell off the other two. I suppose the compromise would be to sell the three tickets to the highest bidder amongst the twenty people vying for my affection, but I don't think I could honestly charge my friends extra just because I'm a poor person who needs to take a waitressing job just to pull in the money to put gas in my car because I've already taken out over 30k in school loans for just this year and I have two more years after this and I really really really could use the cash to buy my family Christmas presents. I'm just saying...
This is when I wish I had a comments feature, so I could really figure out who was willing to pay for these tickets. I would honestly rather go with friends, but the money is just too amazing to pass up. So twist my arm. Tell me why you want these tickets, and I'll see what I can do for you. I have a few days to make up my mind.
In other not-so-pressing news, I did not go on the date I had planned for last night. Turns out I'm just not that interested in this guy. It would have been our third date. Our first date was nice, we had a lovely dinner together and good conversation, then he met my friends and it was very comfortable. On our second date, we hung out with a different set of my friends, one his, one mine, after having another nice dinner together and good conversation. But the problem came at the end of the evening, which happened to be a late night of drinking at the Beacon Hill Pub (this after watching a Red Sox game at his friend's apartment), when he wanted to know whether or not I was seeing anybody else. And this was not a casual enquiry. This was an "I-don't-want-you-to-be-dating-anyone-else" enquiry, as evidenced by his mauling me all evening, which I have to say I didn't particularly mind. Coming from a previous relationship where physical affection was scarce, it was nice to feel wanted. But, as my friend Erin pointed out, at one point she looked around asking "Where's Phoebe?," and then she realized that I was, as she put it in her own words "engulfed." Not so much a good thing. I guess his intensity just freaked me out a little bit. There is no way I'm ready for that. He is such a nice guy, and successful, with all the trappings that that success brings (come on, people -- he's twenty-six and owns a house, yes a house -- in Boston). Not that I'm materialistic, but it's so nice to meet a guy who sets goals and meets them. Obviously, owning real estate says a lot about a person, especially a guy who's 26. But enough about that. Close the chapter on that boy. I feel bad about it, because he really is a nice, nice guy, who obviously really really liked me. Um, but no. I guess sometimes that's just the way it is.
On the flip side of that, there has been no flagging on the meeting other people scene. It's kind of funny how quickly one slips back into a single life after a long term relationship. Or maybe it's just me. I'm sure there's something a little pathological about that -- denial, maybe, or looking for a boost in self-esteem, and all that crap. But I haven't been reading my psych text, so I wouldn't know. I've met a bunch of interesting people lately, and gotten a few phone numbers. Most of them have been very tall as well, which a good thing. We're talking 6'5" and 6'6" (one a pitcher in the AA minor league system, and the other an MBA student, respectively). I likes me the tall boys. There's one I'm particularly disappointed about though. I met this guy Justin a couple of weeks ago, and we really hit it off. He's 29, also a Boston College alum like me, and a lawyer, with beautiful green eyes and a really nice smile. Problem is, I think, he knows my cousin. My crazy older cousin whom I never speak to, whose mother is my mother's sister and they haven't gotten along in about fifteen years. So yeah, he never called me. And I was really disappointed about that. Dammit. Why is it that the ones who you really want to call you never call, and the ones you're not quite so interested in call back the next day? No fair. But then again, I've been reading all these single people's weblogs for the last six months or so, so why should I really pretend that I'm that surprised by this? I'm not. I just can't help but be disappointed. Oh well. A different cousin is setting me up with her husband's co-worker in a few weeks (she gave him a thumbs up, and her husband's pretty hot -- sorry if that's inapproprite Meg! -- so I tend to trust her judgment), and I have lots to keep me busy until then. So I'm just looking forward to getting out there and circulating, as they say. I had so much fun being single for the first four-fifths of my life, I'm realizing that I enjoy this again. Bring it on!
