Apologies for the saminess of the tone over these entries, but I really am done in. This Christmas has been hell, and despite the (amittedly surprisingly huge) bonus I received I'm still wondering if the effort was worth it.
I have little patience for Christmas customers, and whilst I appreciate that this is a service industry and I just have to grin and bear the more goombah excesses of customers (passing out, falling off tables, unconscionable lack of manners and other complaints too numerous to list) I'm finally starting to wonder whether or not my time in catering has run its course.
The exhaustion is only to be expected, but the factthat I'm sat here on my break, with an evening shift to follow and I'm drinking a rhone red to cheer myself up is cause for some concern. My self-control has always been a strength at this time of year, I'm able just to keep going regardless by avoiding booze and just shaking off the all-round fed-upness. But now...
It's just graft graft graft at the moment, leaving those few moments when I'm not actually in work free for the all important business of wolfing a quick meal down my neck (for which I thoroughly recommend frying a tin of chickpeas with an onion, cutting some chorizo into it and stirring some mustard through, takes five minutes, and time is definitely a factor as currently stands).
All writing is on hold while the season is in full swing, any which does appear is likely to be of a deeply misanthropic nature, and therefore not a great deal of cop. Everything is on hold. There is only the voracious public, and the implacable God of Catering.
In the thick of it now. first cabaret night of the season last night. Also first fight between customers *sigh*.
Now, I like drnking, but these people are ridiculous. They come out for a meal and simply cram as much booze as possible down their throats as fast as possible. Nobody, it seems to me, is actually having a good time, it's as thoughthey are controlled by dome sort of inner force which compels them to drink, and to not really care what they're drinking. Everywhere I looked round the restaurant there were drawn, ashen faces, contemplating glasses. It got even worse when the cabaret started, at the point all the self-appointed "fun people" of the office started dancing, and dragging up those who clearly just didn't want to be there. Then they'd lurch and stumble, collapsing into my hard-working staff who were trying to balance full trays of drinks at the time. "Come on! Dance! It's Christmas!" Yes it is, and I'm working why can you im…
You can always tell in catering when the festive season is rolling around. Table sizes go up from four to about eight. The wine stays largely untouched, sales of lager and alcopops go through the roof. It's depressing, but that's the nature of the beast. I'm not working in a high-end restaurant, I work in a bistro, and at this time of year the awful reality of that is works dos. All of our regulars, the ones who normally I'd stop and chat to, maybe recommend a new wine I've got in, the ones who ask you what's good today, or how your girlfriend is, whose family histories I know better than my own, sensibly stay away.
In their place come companies nights out. Cowrokers who may hate each other normally and a boss they barely know lumped togther and forced to have a good time on company money. Some things are ineivitable. A secretary will get pissed and start crying. The boss will attempt to cop off with someone. I will get my arse grabbed. They will demand festive…
So tonight's the end of year reading bash for my research group, and it'll be held at Liverpool's Masque Theatre. As is always the case on the morning of a reading I have an open word document containing god knows ho wmany texts, and I'm struggling to select a few to do, with ineivitable quick rewrites. I was too busy to finish it last month because of NaNoWriMo, and last night was taken up with very important girlfriend-seeing duties, so I have nothing, as currently stands. I could do with spending the rest of the day working on it, however I have to go to work, as of approximately...now. Ah.