I woke up at 10, finally able to sleep in. I made breakfast and the it was off to Kinko’s to make copies and laminate flashcards for the new drinks we are making for the summer promotion. I finished everything I needed with enough time, so I rode up to the college to drop off all the paperwork required for starting the EMT program. I still need to get a CPR certification, but I have until July.
I rode home and read some of my book. It is the third of a trilogy about the video game Halo. Each book is around 400 pages long, and I started first book last week, and finished the third book today before work. I made lunch and then headed to work where all of my energy and desire to do anything had drained. The regional manager was in town over the weekend, and for some reason he felt the need to calculate how many plates, cups, bowls, and pieces of silverware we should be bringing in to the dish washing area during a shift. The number for the night shift was 145. They estimate a busy night should equal 600 dinners. That is 600 plates, cups, and bowls, plus 1,200 pieces of silverware divided by the number of servers working. I think there are many other things a regional manager could be doing to help the restaurant, but if he wants to figure out how many dishes I should be busing, who am I to argue. I kept count throughout the night. We sold way under 600 dinners, but I was almost at 400 by the end of the night. When I had reached 150 halfway through the shift, I asked if that meant I could stop busing tables.
I was doing cash deposits tonight, normally that means I am in the office by myself for long periods of time, but tonight one of the female managers was in the office doing paperwork. This only bothered me because I had made burritos for breakfast, and the beans wanted to sing me the song of their people. I politely kept everything inside because it is a small, cold, poorly ventilated room, and I am a gentleman. Once I was free to go, I let loose a series of vapor clouds that would make a sewer rat scurry away in fear.
I rode home, gassed up the moped (in more ways than one) and watched Sons of Anarchy until I went to bed.