The Side of the Cereal Box

No one was meant to work this many hours in the week. Oh, I don’t mean my current tally of hours; I’m including the rest of today at the Algates’ (add 6.5), plus tonight at Ritter’s (add 5.5 or more), plus tomorrow night at Ritter’s (add 6.5 or more). That brings the grand total to 49.25 or more. And that’s less than I was supposed to have! Thanks to the downpour yesterday, I got sent home from Ritter’s an hour and a half early. Otherwise, that would have taken me, essentially, to 51 hours for the week. And if it were only ONE really long week, that might not be so bad. But, so far, I’ve been keeping up this pace for a month and a half - with another month and a half to go. I’m about to keel over.

Not from the “strain” of babysitting. (Please, I’m blogging right now. What does that tell you about the stress level? Jeremy’s playing a computerized version of Capture the Flag, and Katie and Nicole are reading. This is an average day.) And not necessarily from working (on average) 27 hours a week at Ritter’s (though that comes with its own strain: my hip’s been hurting since Wednesday night). So what bother’s me? Well, apart from Sunday (which is a guaranteed day off), I’m never at home. Mom makes dinners that I get to reheat later (if there’s even any left, and there’s rarely a little of EVERYTHING left); Sarah, Keith, and Bubbs go see (or rent) movies (that I’m dying to see); I almost never see Cris, and I even miss little things with Noah, Hope, and Chloe. I don’t like feeling like a hampster who can’t get off the wheel.

I could cut back my hours (at least at Ritter’s). That would give me more time at home. But less possibility of doing anything besides sit at home - even in the most basic sense! No money for gas, eating out, or movies. No money for clothes (not even when desperately needed), no money for gifts, no money for hobbies (like reading or making jewelry). And you know, I’d even considered trying to sell my jewelry, as a way to make some extra money instead of just making stuff to give away. That went over real well. (Anybody want $30 worth of 4th of July charm bracelets?)

And I know there are those out there saying, “Get a real job!” Sure thing. Got anything entry level that pays more than what I’m making now? (Don’t you dare say teaching: 1) because I’m not going to and 2) because you’d probably be wrong about the pay.) And it’s not just that. I made commitments that I fully intend to honor (”who keeps his oath, even when it hurts”?). First of all, I LOVE being at the Algates’ and spending time with J, K, and N. (If I could do this full-time, I’d never wish for anything else.) Second, I applied at Ritter’s with the intention of completing a full season. I imagine that’s part of why they hired me: they need people who can work during the day in the early spring and fall (when most of their employees are in school). I’m not just going to drop those commitments because something “better” comes along.

I imagine that once the summer’s over, most of the stress will be relieved. I’ll be working more hours at Ritter’s, but in longer stretches, fewer days, and with fewer nights. Bliss. After that, when Ritter’s goes into hibernation… Who knows. (For those of you with networking skills out there, I’d really like some sort of receptionist/secretarial work. My “experience” may not be all that most are hoping for, but I’m competant, I have excellent grammar/spelling/typing skills, I learn quickly, and, having worked at Ritter’s, I have all the customer relations experience I need (some phone experience as well).)

Anyway, before this blog becomes a cover letter and resume, I’ll leave it at this: 31.35 and counting…

I had a colossal fall at work last night. No, I didn’t break anything (on me or anything else), but it was a spectacular fall nonetheless.

It was around five o’clock - about an hour before I got off work. I was looking for something to do (since there weren’t any customers at the moment), so I grabbed a few of the candy containers to take them to the back to fill them (in preparation for the busy evening that surely lay ahead). I had Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups and Heath Bar in one hand and Chocolate Curls and Snickers in the other. I passed by Amber, who was preparing waffle cones, turned the corner by the sink, and passed Shalonda, who was washing dishes. I made a comment about how hot it was, and then realized that my right foot was sliding to my left.

As if in slow motion, I felt myself lift off the ground, saw the candy containers launch skyward, landed (HARD) right on my butt (my right side taking pretty much all the impact), and heard the clatter of plastic containers on the tile floor. Snickers to the left of me! Heath Bar to the right of me! (The Chocolate Curls and Reese’s PB Cup managed to hang on.)

And as I sat there on the wet floor, feeling so foolish I had to laugh, all I could say was, “Back’s wet!” (This is what someone usually hollers when they’ve been moping the floor in the back, just to warn the rest of us that it’s pretty slick and we should be careful.) I heard Mrs. Cox giggling from behind the nearest shelves. She and Mr. Cox came around the corner (as I sat there laughing) and asked if I was alright. I said, “Yeah, but we have some candy casualties.” “That’s alright,” she said. “We’ve lost worse than that before.” (She later described to Shalonda and I a fall she’d had last year when she put her foot through a fan (off and unplugged) that had been sitting on the floor near the shelves.)

We all got a good laugh out of it. And I think they all knew it was alright to laugh since I was laughing the hardest out of all of them. What else could I do? It was hilarious! I had Heath Bar all over my arm - little indents from all the little bits that I had mashed upon landing. My pants were wet. (Though I was a little sore for a minute or two.) And thankfully, there’s no bruise - though if there were, I’m sure that would be spectacular too!