full on

I've been whingeing about my job for the last couple days trying to figure out how to snaggle more hours. I still love my job. I just don't love working 20 hours a week. Finally today I decided to just start handing out resumes to other places to work, hopefully (best scenario) getting a second part-time job in the mornings and working at Sabbaba afternoons and evenings. But I also decided to try to ask for more hours every time I have a shift this week, just put it out there as Nic's signing us out so that he gets it in his head. So I planned to be extra brilliant and cheerful and perceptive and handle everything with alacrity to prepare the way for making him glad to give me extra hours.

And of course, everything that could go wrong went wrong. I've never, ever had a shift like this at Sabbaba. I've never had stress affect me. Even when it's nuts I'm quite merry. But not tonight. I messed up a couple orders, sure, and one badly, but here was the main thing: as far as Nic's concerned, I broke the cash register (I didn't really but hey, what do my excuses matter) so we had an hour of understaffed crazy-mad-rush time with no register, just him and me. There was this palpable black cloud hanging over him and I was like, Beware of lightning bolts. Nic's really a sweet tempered guy, too, so when he said to me, "You'll just have to handle your own orders for now. Don't ask me any more questions because I can't talk to you," I was like, oh crap. I'm going to get fired. Thanks to my last job I've acquired the skill to breathe normally and speak normally (i.e. act professionally) when the stress is squeezing my insides dry, but my brains do slow down a bit and of course that's not great during a mad-rush time with your manager furious at you - it just compounds everything.

By the time my break came around Natalie had come in and Nic was recovering his temper though I still felt completely in disgrace, and I just made my falafel to take home instead of eating on my break. I ran for my whole breaktime. Speaking Gospel truth to myself. Breathing the name Yahweh as I breathed out. Naming myself clothed in righteousness and a daughter and claiming promises, and when I was done my armor was thick again and I could bounce and smile once more. Nic was pretty much all better too, and by the end of the shift he could share excitedly with me about this holiday he's taking in a few weeks and tease me, "Look what you did," when a bag I handed to a customer across the counter knocked the straws onto the floor.

But still. It was not the night to ask for more hours.