So as of last Friday I have a job. You know, the kind where you actually go into a place of work, and exchange for your services they pay you the money. I always considered my "career" as a writer a job, but since I've barely sold 100 books (most of which were purchased by me and given to friends) some people probably don't consider it a "real" job. Which is understandable, but I still treated my writing like a real job by doing a certain amount of writing each day, setting hours and goals for myself, and making sure I met deadlines.
Ok, so the deadlines were set by me, and no one would know if I didn't meet the deadlines, and that is where there was the flaw in having people take my writing career seriously.
I'm still a writer, and no matter what kind of job I have, I'll always be a writer first. My new job is nothing terribly exciting, I'm a server for a breakfast and lunch joint. So far, it has really kicked my butt working from 7 to 3-3:30ish, because I'm not used to being on my feet all day (one of the best parts about being a writer is the sitting, in my opinion). But it's been great exercise, and even though my muscles have been sore, that hasn't stopped me from being able to go in the past three mornings. Those were actually my "training" days, and let me tell you, for someone who has never been a server before I've learned a hella lot. I still haven't quite mastered everything, and yesterday was quite the test. Sundays are our busiest days, and since it was my last day of training the boss decided to give me my own small section to look after instead of just shadowing my trainer. The reastaurant has an upstairs section, so I had four tables up there, but the boss and hostess were nice enough to never give me more than 3 tables at a time.
And let me tell you, that was difficult for ole' Shawn. I didn't mind running up and down the stairs, but I hated being so far away from the kitchen. Numerous times someone else had to bring up the food to my tables, because my timing was so bad. I wasn't just sitting up there with my thumb up my butt, I would go down to check on the food, see that it wasn't ready, then go back upstairs to refill drinks and take a new table's drink order. See, we have to take their drink orders within 30 seconds of them being seated (although the managers prefer it if we greet the guests immediately). So I would go down to the kitchen, see that the food wasn't up yet, then on my way upstairs find out that I have a new table. After going upstairs taking drink order, then getting their drinks, someone would show up with my other table's food, and even though they're just making sure people get their food while it's hot, I still felt like a royal D-bag.
Not to mention, I forgot to put in two side orders of fries until after their food showed up, then put the fries on someone else's ticket in the computer, and dropped someone's bicuit right as I was putting it on their table. Yeah, that person didn't tip me. I also haven't memorized the entire menu yet, so I kept having to go back and ask questions like (what kind of bread do you want, which side with that omlet, how do you want your eggs cooked, your burger?) I'm not a meat-eater, so it doesn't occur to me right away that people can be picky about their meat. Ok, not picky, they just want it cooked a certain way.
But even after all my mess-ups, I must have done enough good to get scheduled for four days this week. Occording to my co-workers that's good for a newbie, so I'm pretty excited. I'm just dreading next Sunday, but I'll deal with that biatch when she gets here. For now, I'm just happy that I have a job that pays me regularly, allows me to have time to write, and will be fairly easy once I get the hang of it.