So I'm officially waiting tables at Tavern.
This is probably the most stressful thing I've done in my entire life. I wish I were kidding. Today was the first day I've cried in New York City and it was at Tavern.
There wasn't an incident. No one yelled at me. I was filling ketchup bottles and couldn't quite get the right hold on the bag and suddenly I was hit with this overwhelming sense of incompetence. This task was so simple. Why couldn't I figure it out? Why couldn't I remember to put knifes on the plates with huge hunks of meat? Why couldn't I remember to ask customers to choose a dressing? Why couldn't I remember what vegetables we serve as sides? Why couldn't I remember to write a legible and comprehensible check for the kitchen? WHY COULDN'T I OPEN A STUPID BOTTLE OF WINE?
(I've watched this 4x.)
So I cried. My eyes got puffy, my face got red, and a little bit of snot came out of my nose. I'm still really worried someone saw the snot.
Everyone at work responded in the worst way -- they began to lavish upon me encouragement and compliments, which of course made me cry even harder because I can't get over how blessed I am in terms of coworkers. I tried to explain myself between quick intakes of breath, which also made things worse. Plus, I really had no explanation.
As Becky likes to point out, I am a textbook ENFP. With every question or mistake, I take personal responsibility for making the jobs of my coworkers just a little more difficult and that KILLS ME. I don't want to be a burden, and I want to deserve to be there. I know people don't walk into West Village waitressing gigs. I know I have this job only because I'm a friend of a friend. I also know that I don't have the serving background or alcohol expertise of most of my coworkers. I feel like a child, completely dependent and painfully naive. But, man, do I really, really want to be good at this job.
Thankfully, after a slightly tearful walk home (sidenote: I did successfully give directions to an adorable couple who I like to think are married with a Pomeranian or some other cute animal at home), God decided to once again bless me through a conversation with someone from my best friend tier. A level-headed Melissa on the other side of the world made me admit out loud that the only person overwhelming me with pressure to be perfect was me.
I've been at Tavern a month. I can't possibly know everything. Instead of being discouraged, I should be welcoming a challenge and counting myself supremely lucky I have such helpful coworkers to ease my pains. (Thanks, Melissa). These things take time. It's not always fun, easy, or peaceful.
Hey, that's waiting.
In other news, classes are going well. I enjoy discussions and I feel like I'm getting great opportunities and learning a lot. Maybe if I dote on NYU enough, this blog will come up in search optimization exercises and they'll cut me a check. haha...I'm hilarious.
I visited Graffiti Church two Sundays ago and they were so nice it made me want to hug everyone I saw for the rest of the day. I can't go to their sunday school class because of work and I was sincere when I told one of the ushers I really hated that.
Last Sunday I had brunch with Max Manack at Clinton Street Baking Company. Blueberry Pancakes and Apple Pie Waffle. Get at me. All the time. Get at me.
This past weekend I tried Artichoke pizza which rocked my world and confessed to a classmate I was secretly obsessed with her. Thankfully, she claims the feelings are mutual. I'm excited to have a potential bestie in addition to my roommates in New York. Last night we saw Matilda together, which was wonderful but also borderline terrifying at times. The final number felt like a prequel to Spring Awakening. Subsequently, I've decided to enroll my child in Hip Hop Dance as early as possible.
GETTIN' IT.
I was in a film for the cute Italian waiter that required me to be on set at 5 am and go home at 10. I met some interesting characters -- a "professional" extra and a personal trainer. I really liked one of them. Rufilin jokes aren't that funny, extra man. They're not.
For the future, I'm thrilled for Core Four Christmas and family time. I miss those girls like I miss Zaxbys Buffalo Chicken Zalad and I miss my family like I miss having a washer and dryer in my house (second sidenote: I am totally best friends with Mark, the owner of the laundromat next to my apartment. We talked for, like, 30 minutes and I now I feel like if I ever wash clothes elsewhere, it will feel like an extramarital affair). I've also begun to consider internships and online dating. I'm kidding about that last one. Mostly. Seriously, I'm all about the waiting.
