First of all, I finally completed my counselor application for The Mountain. I was quite late, but my parents wanted me to have no contact with them until they made up their mind about whether or not I'm allowed to go.
And then I realized that it'll be a long time before they agree, if ever.
So I filled out and submitted my application at 11:30 at night last Thursday.
But I'm also quite nervous if I am hired as a counselor: I don't like kids that much. Sure, there are certainly some that I love a lot and bond closely with. But as a large group, there will be a lot that I don't like that much. In a cabin of 6-8 kids, there'll always be one or two that are just angry, spoiled, or uncooperative little things. It's just very tiring being around kids for an extended period of time. That's not to say that I'd be unfriendly. I'd do my best to understand them, to bond with them, to get them to open up.
I just don't know if I can handle being around young kids nearly 24/7, for six weeks.
I just need to be there. I can't remember a time when I haven't spent the summer at The Mountain. It's the one place that I feel most at home. It's what I look forward to each year, something that keeps me going.
I'd get paid a minimum of $145 dollars a week, which is about what I make at Basil's in two weeks.
I could have been a kitchen worker or garden worker instead. But I can't handle working in another stressful kitchen for a while, after Basil's. And the garden job would be an unpaid internship; and since the garden manager left this year, no one seems to know if there even will be a garden program this summer.
So counselor it is.
~
Second, I got my acceptance letter to UNC Asheville. I think I might go to UNCA for at least my core classes, as it's smaller and cheaper. Then I might see about transferring to UNC Chapel Hill to focus on a major of English and writing.
Of course, this is in no way a solid plan. It's just a thought.
~
Third, as of today, I started 60 mg of Ritalin. I've been more anxious; like that feeling when you're sure that there's something important you're forgetting to do. But today, I felt awake.
~
Finally, the pizza hell: Basil's Pizza and Deli.
Wow. Where do I begin.
It's stressful. Any job is stressful. But this is on a while other level.
I've had more anxiety there than I have in literal years.
Days on afternoons generally aren't bad, and lunch on Saturdays... but I usually end up having to work on Friday and Saturday nights, and on busy holidays. Making specialty salads with 8+ ingredients each and serving soups, (for here and to-go orders), preparing pita bread, and frantically preparing extra ingredients that we've run out of, and doing tasks for other people around the kitchen is a lot to do.
On busy nights, orders will be coming in nonstop. I'll be fifteen orders behind, salads in different stages of readiness, the servers getting frustrated and impatient for their food.
Then, there's the manager. She seems to really dislike me. Whatever I'm doing, I'm doing it wrong. I'm never moving fast enough. She'll be yelling from across the kitchen, asking where different orders are; orders that either are time-consuming and labor intensive, or that have ingredients that take a long time to go through the oven. She's made me cry before, but I don't think she saw.
This is a job that easily needs two people on the busier nights. But that rarely happens.
And then I have to clean up. Which isn't unreasonable, but there's so much cleaning to do, while still making salads; it isn't unusual to be scheduled to get off at 8:30, but actually get off closer to 9:00 or 9:15.
Most people are nice there, generally understanding. If you're backed up, they'll try to help you out. But they can only help out for a few minutes, and then I'm alone again.
On Valentine's Day evening, I was freaking out. I was the only salad person there, and a super busy dinner rush was about to start. I told my kind supervisor that I was extremely anxious. He pulled me aside and said, 'Look, do you want an early Valentine's Day present?' And handed me a pipe full of weed. I was seriously considering it, but the manager walked by, and I ran out of time. As predicted, it was busy.
Last Friday, it was packed. So backed up. Manger yelling. No one to help me out. Complicated and time-consuming orders. If feels like it's been an eternity. I'm thinking, 'all right. it has to be at least 7:30. I can get through the last hour.' And I glance at the time, and it isn't even 6:20. And I think, 'Oh my god. I can't do this.' I feel vomit coming up my throat. I ran to the bathroom. I wasn't sick, but I did start crying.
I walked outside and told the manager that I had thrown up. She let me go home. My dad picked me up, still crying. I called out sick the next day too, a day that was promising to be a busy Saturday night. I just couldn't do it.
I'll go back this week. I'm working Monday night, Friday night, and Saturday afternoon. It's only Friday that I'm worried about. We'll see.
No comments:
Post a Comment