A quest to make sense of it all. Or a sense to make a quest of it all.

Monday, June 20, 2011

"I'm not really a waitress" is one of OPI's best colors.

This afternoon after work, I'm heading straight to the restaurant for my first shift there. All I know is that I'm starting out by hostessing and seating. I have no idea what to expect, or even what my schedule this week will look like. I do know I'm excited by the idea of making extra money while being in such close proximity to Tom Kka soup. It's been a long time since I've worked in a restaurant.

I'm just really, really happy that they don't have a salad bar. I'd rather endure watching Grease or listening to Michael McDonald than break down a salad bar ever again.

In other news, I was reunited with old friend Fowler over the weekend. We met up in Olive Branch and were soon joined by Megan. It was a lovely evening, and I can't wait to see both of them again.


Anonymous said...

YE GODS, the nights I spent breaking down the salad bar to the snarky-hip color commentary of Seth Franklin.

Once in art class I drew a picture of that restaurant sitting on a singed, cracked desert, with pitchforks and devils emerging from the hell that leaked from below into that godforsaken place.

sarah saint said...

Ha! Like anyone needs any more reasons to hate iceberg lettuce.

I had the good fortune to never have to work there. I remember Seth's colorful sentiments about it, from his 10-page letters.

I dealt with the salad bar at Pizza Hut. Salad bars are gross, and a huge pain in the keyster. It's very rare that I actually eat from one now, because of that experience.


Anonymous said...

LOL @ iceberg lettuce.