Why I don't leave

1) shadowflyer has been out of work since April. We're in a pretty deep hole.

2) I've only been kitchen manager for a month. If I leave now, it'll look like I can't hack the increased responsibility.

3) I really don't WANT to be doing real sit-down restaurant work with plated desserts or line cook for single orders or whatever. I like the café-style business. I've got a handle on its rhythms. If only my boss would let me get my work done.

I actually yelled back at her today. Lost my shit at her. The General Assembly order was finished, I was putting together Special Salads (the ones with the goat cheese and candied walnuts) and she wanted to know what I was doing for the afternoon.

I said I hadn't figured it out, I was going to take a few minutes after I got the Special Salads made and get organized. She said "I need to know what you're doing. because I have things that need to get done, to make sure the special orfer cake for tomorrow isn't last-minute." That was when I lost it.

I told her, "Then quit asking me trick questions. If you want me to do specific things in a specific order, just TELL me, and I'll do them, but don't ask me to tell you what I'm doing so that you can tell me I'm wrong. Don't PLAY those sorts of games with me. I am tired of everything I do being wrong. If you want it done a certain way, JUST TELL ME."

And then a little later I took a couple of Happy Campers. I didn't crack the rum and dump it in my iced tea. Aren't you proud of me?

I think she took me seriously, because she wrote out what she wanted me to do on a piece of paper on my clipboard. She might have remembered that I've told her that I understand written instructions about an order of magnitude better than spoken ones. If I were a kid being tested now it might even fall under learning disability, except I think I did it to myself over the years -- too many years of tuning out the teacher during class while I snuck a book under my desk, and catching up by reading the textbook later.

Back when I had my own plan for the afternoon -- yesterday -- it involved making apple pies. She's bumped that to tomorrow. Bleah. I'm gonna be there forever. I hope she's RECONCILED to that.

So this afternoon I made the lemon curd for the cake -- a job which I had meant to give to Robert, as I hadn't made lemon curd since school, over a year ago, and I really didn't want to fuck it up, which I nearly managed --- didn't cook it long enough, and boss came back and put it back over the double boiler until it thickened, finally getting the clue that I had put it on Robert's list because I thought he'd do a BETTER JOB...

and I made the vanilla buttercream, and the sour cream coffee cakes, and toasted the almonds so Robert could make frangipane, and also knocked out some Caesar dressing so we can have chicken Caesar salads tomorrow.

I had a crying jag when I got home. I needed it. shadowflyer fixed me a large drink, and I probably ought not to try standing for any length of time, but I am a lot calmer now.

My new dollar-store bandana with the mean skulls on it failed to protect me. Well, maybe it didn't fail. She didn't fire me when I lost my shit at her. But I was hoping it would project don't-fuck-with-me, and it didn't, not enough, although Laura admired it, which I sort of expected. I still like it, but maybe I'll wear my lucky hat tomorrow instead, now that Charlotte's found it for me again.

Iced tea, limeade, and rum is very easy to drink quickly.

There is always alcohol.

Night, folks.