Just Another Cottage in Blogville

Idle hands are the devil's play

Woops! Sorry I didn't update -- I forgot to with all of the 4th of July celebrations and work and blah blah blah blah blah going on. I wound up getting my hair chopped shorter than I'd intended till August, but I am pleased and it is easier to work with at its length just above my shoulders. (This, of course, excludes updos.)

After I had my hair trimmed my mother suggested we go out to eat at my workplace where my favorite manager was working Thursday evening. After we were seated I told the hostess to let Miss Manager (as I fondly call her) know I was there with my mom. She said she would, and after I had just one bite of my sandwich Miss Manager appeared, her lips pressed thin, eyebrows raised, blue eyes sharp, and wearing a half-relieved, half-reproving grin. I lowered my head with a coy smile in reply as if to beg a quiet pardon. She shook her head as she reached our booth.

Before she had a moment to say anything I immediately jumped into an obscure conversation, but she was not fooled. Realizing it was a lost cause I said, "I'm eating today."

"You scared me," she said, looking from me to my mom and back. "The color just went from her face. Thank God I grabbed her wrist -- she turned into dead weight and Mary grabbed her head. If she didn't her head would have split open." We got into the discussion and relived the scenario over again, then thankfully switched the topic to her wedding plans. Before she left she did say, "Take care of yourself. I'll be texting you every day saying 'Did you eat?' That's what you'll be hearing most, besides 'I love you!'" She gave me a big hug after we paid and headed out the door.

Urgh - I should have been prepared for today. This morning I clocked in at eight and was scheduled until two-thirty. The owner and his wife come to work at different times, and this morning he appeared in the kitchen as I was passing through. I was feeling particularly cheery and had even written on the seating chart the Spanish verb "sonreír," which is "to smile," and the noun "sonrisa," which means "smile." Every time he sees one of us he pauses us from whatever we're doing, takes time to look into our eyes and asks us each about our days and our lives, truly taking care of all of his employees. He knows each of us by name, and remembers what we've told him. He is an inspiration for leadership, and if I am ever the owner or boss of anything, I shall always remember his example and strive to live by it.

This, of course, meant when I beamed at him and said, "Good morning! How are you?" He paused and said, "No, the question is, how are you?" I told him I felt wonderful and was having a great morning, and he looked me dead in the eye and said, "We didn't have an upset earlier this week did we?" I sighed and said, "Oh, she told you." "Yeah it's kind of a big deal," he said sternly. "What happened?" I explained that we were sure I was dehydrated and that I'd gone through two Powerades, plenty of water and watermelon and was feeling in top shape. "Take care of yourself," he said, "that's the most important thing. Take care of yourself."

A recurring mantra in my life. Don't I? I thought I did. But I was raised in a household where I was told never to complain if I didn't feel well. My mother warned me against causing them any worry today, and I vowed I wouldn't, and truly did feel well. That is, until a few hours into my shift, when things grew dimmer again, and I felt shaky and out of it. Instead of going in the bathroom for privacy, I decided less drama would ensue if I sat in the breakroom and sipped my water for a few minutes. A waitress -- who I just found out tonight is the general manager's daughter -- gave me some orange juice, and when I asked if it was good for this, she said, "Absolutely!" She told me she was used to people passing out -- "I'm a professional body piercer." Learned two new things about her today. She is a real ray of sunshine, too.

This eventually attracted the General Manager's attention, who grinned at me with the same expression Miss Manager had worn Thursday evening, and said I could have a few moments. I assured him I was fine and that I'd be out in two minutes. True to my word, I was on the floor.

When Miss Manager clocked in around eleven, I noticed she'd been avoiding me until she had the chance to say, "I heard what happened." My expression must've betrayed my confusion. "I - uh - heard you got a little dizzy this morning." I've just been a little weary. "I'm fine now," I told her, explaining that I'd had orange juice and was completely restored to health. "If I don't feel well, I'll tell you." With a whip of her sleek blond pony tail she warned, "You'd better."

How long must this go on? I've been avoiding the sun, overexertion, I've been drinking plenty of fluids and eating, yet I still have those shaky moments. How long is dehydration supposed to last? Google, here I come.

Shortly after I was released from work I went upstairs and penned a thank you note to Miss Manager, stamped it with a Harry Potter sticker on the back and a note above reading "With love from Mrs" and Dan's picture. I went to Confession, drove to the mall to pick up some cute stationary on sale (after all, I'd promised many people I'd be in touch!), and returned home before heading to church. Mom and I came home, ate my dad's homemade pizza, and relaxed. Miss Manager and I texted for a bit and we talked on the phone for about twenty-five minutes about books and what she and her fiancé were like as children. Hilarious, hilarious stories. We hung up and here I am, relaxing as the sun is setting, making viewing my laptop progressively easier, books laid aside for a while. My feet, knees and hips are sore from bustling around a restaurant all day and I'm ready to cash in. Maybe it's just from being tired, but I am an emotional mess right now. Not that I've cried or anything, but I just feel on the verge of tears and frustration. My head is spinning and I'm very nauseous, and I feel abnormally vulnerable. What's gotten into me these days?

Alas, it has darkened and the fireflies are knocking into my screen, signaling bedtime. I'll be rising before the sun tomorrow for another day at work. May God bless it and keep me safe and healthy -- and out of my managers' hair.