It’s hard being home from vacation. I’ve been waving my arm around for hours and there’s still no cocktail in front of me.
Yesterday I head to work an hour early. In my absence the new chef created a salad special with 23 ingredients and the bar has been remodeled. I spend the shift training a new bartender and trying to find the forks. Where did the forks go? Where’s the bread? Where’s the computer? Who is this person following me around? What’s in the salad again?
Sometimes at night I dream about work. It’s usually like my bar, but different. I’m super busy and struggling to keep up. It’s like the grown-up version of the showing-up-for-school-naked dream.
Last night was like that dream, but I made money and I wasn’t naked.