Hair there and everywhere
Tag: work stuff
I’m actually leaving work on time and, like, the sun is still up and it feels so weird. I even got everything done and left things tidy for me tomorrow like what is this feeling of no stress and no exhaustion IT FEELS SO WRONG.
Bill Mastiff puppy! With hiccups!!!!
We have a Frenchie here who sounds exactly like a turkey and I can’t stop laughing.
I know it’s legal here, but if hours after check-in I still feel like I’m going to get a contact high from spending time with your dog, I’m seriously judging you.
Gave a tour to a guy who has 10 cats. He was rather pleased to find out he’s our first crazy cat dude. Now I really want him to stay with us just so I can meet all these cats.
The weird and random things I say at my job: “Nixon! Be nice to Reagan!”
I closed last night and opened this morning, and while my few hours of sleep have me feeling decently refreshed, I’m in that “people are awful” kind of mood where I don’t want to deal with anyone, especially the general public.
Which means, of course, today has been super busy with random walk-ins and phone calls and I’m just done, so done, yet because I’m such a professional I’ve had a couple people remark how friendly and helpful I’ve been. Yes, I can do my job even when I feel like murdering you.
My weekend isn’t until Tuesday which is too far away. *cries*
Good news: I do not have to be at work at 6am on the start of Daylight Savings like I was originally scheduled.
Bad news: The new person I’ve been training decided to flake out so I’ll be working OT again.
Possibly all week again, too, because my loyal team member (who is awesome and whom I lub and am willing to bribe in any way I can to get her to return to my department after her maternity leave) may be having a baby starting any day now, and without a new person sticking around longer than a few days (this is my second new hire since my non-assistant flame-out just two weeks ago), it’s just gonna be me doing all the things. *cries*
Just spent the past half hour cutting* up not one, not two, but three whole pineapples with only a cake knife, aka a glorified butter knife. I feel like a beast. They’re not the prettiest chunks of pineapple you’ll ever see, but by golly, there are chunks.
(My GM, after she bought the pineapples: “We should have knives and a cutting table here.” Surprise, we do NOT.)
So here’s a shout-out to Dixie paper plates, the extra-sturdy kind. They protected the counter from my awkward hack job and even did a decent job in containing the juice.
*“cutting” is a generous description. More like “hacking and sawing as the flimsy ‘knife’ slides its wayward way through the fruit, somehow separating pieces of juicy flesh from each other.”
Note: I do not recommend trying to cut up a pineapple (much less three!) with a cake knife.
The Obsessive Dilettante 