You know how I told you that last night (Saturday) was really quite awful? Well, tonight was either better or worse: I can't decide which.
I started work at 6, so I went in a little early. Upon arriving, I was informed I would be working in the back room with Robyn and Jason. We were expecting a large Christmas party of about 40 people. At 6:10 the first of the party arrived. He informed us the party was probably going to only be 20 people, if that. I was sent to get a drink order---on my way back from the bar the manager pulled me aside and told me to go home. Great. So I signed myself out: 15 minutes on the clock. Twenty minute walk there, 20 minute walk back.
Uh huh.
I think I need to find another job.
About Me
- KT
- “I’d like you to come mustering with me,” my boyfriend said. Until I met Jet, I can honestly say that mustering was not something I had seriously contemplated doing. This may, in part, have been due to the fact that I had never heard of it. The first time I heard the term was when Jet, having returned to Australia after romancing me in Canada, informed me that he would be out of touch for a week or so because he had to ‘muster the weaners.’ Further probing revealed that this had nothing to do with hotdogs -- except perhaps in the indirect sense -- but instead meant Jet was going to round up his young cattle and separate them from their mothers. Now, he was planning on going ‘up North’ to do more cattle work in an area of Australia that Google informed me was populated almost entirely by Aborigines and crocodiles. I agreed to come along, although not without some trepidation…
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