Cydniey Buffers (cydniey) wrote,
Cydniey Buffers
cydniey

Ok, so today was a loss.

I'll own that. I did so much yesterday that I plum wore myself out. Every time I feel so . . . so . . . capable, awake, alive, aware . . . I completely overdo it and assume the feeling is going to last forever. It isn't quite mania. It kind of is, for me, I'm such a layabout, but not really in the clinical sense. I did a lot yesterday. I not only cleaned the house, I did a lot of computer stuff. Stuff. How professional sounding. I had two bosses tell me that. One as a receptionist in an OB/GYN office (that I was let go from for being too "casual" - my $250 Laura Ashley dresses were just not good enough for the 80 doctor who's Caddy was trimmed with actual gold); the other in a cube farm for a big health insurance company, where I got to see just how badly they jerk around the doctors. You think your insurance company fucks with you? They are just trying to get money from you, think about if you were trying to get money from them with the attitudes they have. They don't want to pay a cent to providers, and will do anything to complicate their lives and keep from paying them. Stuff. What do you want me to say. What is all encompassing for "all the shit you didn't want to be bothered with that is too diverse to lump into a work-vocabulary-category-box for you," besides "stuff?" Things? I don't like that word.

I really hated working outside of kitchens. I really really did. You know why you talk to customers when you are a chef? When they really like you and they want you to come to their table. You don't see them when they think you're shit, because it's the front of house manager's job to intercept that kind of thing and tell you in the privacy of the kitchen, where you won't lose face. Kitchens were nice. They were clean and orderly. Everything went in its place. Everything was labeled, counted, weighed, measured. There is a whole lot of zen in a well-run kitchen. Watch "Rattatoullie", you'll see.
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