Monday, October 8, 2007

On My Feet

...for 6 1/2 hours straight today, serving at a banquet at the big convention center here. The work was easy, just give attendees a choice of drinks and clear away their dishes when they were done. Oh, and roll silverware, put bottled water on the tables, bus tables and clear tables of linens after it was all over.

I lucked out. We served about 3500 people, but my tables were so far away from the buffet line, I only had 16 people to take care of. I had plenty of time to pitch in and help some other servers.

I enjoyed the work, but by the end of it all, my feet were killing me. I'm just not used to being on my feet for that long at a time. No, we didn't get a break, unless you count the couple of times I managed to sneak away to the bathroom. And no, that's not legal (to not let us have a break), but most of us were too busy to have said anything about it. They did give us the option of eating a meal once we were done, but by then it was already 2:30 in the afternoon. It was too close to supper for me to eat a big meal, so I opted to just take off and hobble the three blocks to where I parked the van. I had to question if the $9 I saved on parking was worth those three blocks. Yeah, but just barely.

Tomorrow is the big interview. I'll let you know how it goes.

4 comments:

Violet said...

Back when I was waiting tables, I started smoking. It was the only way you could get a chance to sit down for 30 seconds...

(I've since quit. Dave would never date a smoker...)

Annie Jones said...

I think that's why Jean started smoking, so that she could get a break where she worked.

Back when I was a smoker, I worked office jobs and would never take cigarette breaks. I would only smoke before and after work or if I went out for lunch. I was so regimented with it that I never even wanted to smoke except at those times.

Dave Morris said...

I know what you mean about not being used to being on your feet! Although when we went to the botanical garden Sunday, my daughter complained the whole time that her feet were tired, and I was all good. She's 18, so that explains the complaining...

Annie Jones said...

Dave: But, hey, at least she's an 18-year-old who went somewhere with her dad. How'd you manage that?