Work, Work, Work

I waited about a year or so to seriously look for a new job. Not that there was anything wrong with my old job; in fact, I had been at that job for three years. I just wasn't making enough money to support myself and get myself to school and work. So, after a year of hard contemplation, I quit. 

I kind of went about the "finding a new job" process the wrong way. While I had a job lined up, it wasn't where I really wanted to work. It was closer to my home, but the opportunities just weren't there.

I've ended up landing a job at a very prestigious restaurant a few miles from my apartment. I'm talking five star status. It's very, very intimidating. My first day was spent filling out paper work and following another server. It was a Thursday night. And very, very slow. My trainer only had two tables. The next two nights, Friday and Saturday, were spent following that same server except the pace changed completely. People kept pouring through the doors and I didn't think they were going to stop. 

[Fast forward to the following Saturday night] 

It's my first busy night, serving, by myself. To be honest, I was terrified. And sure enough, I screwed things up. Of course. For about a thirty minute period of time, I wanted to run outside and hurl myself off the deck. Business was fast; I was slow. I couldn't get my pace up and get myself caught up. After having not worked for about a month, I'd lost it. 

At last, I saw the break of day. I finally got myself caught up. Hooray! I was ready for more tables. No more came. I wanted the practice, needed the practice and, alas, I couldn't get any. 

I got home and was very, very disappointed in myself. I've meticulously scrutinized my every move and thought. I've figured it out and I need more practice. Practice I won't get until Thursday (which will be slow). Then there's Friday and again, I'm terrified I'll get knocked off my feet again. 

I've got to learn to relax.