Ha, dear diary, it’s not something I personally keep, but today I felt, was worthy of note.
Possibly one of my worst attacks of insomnia in months occurred. I don’t think it’s entirely normal to have the head chef of your work place whispering in your ear as you try to sleep, even when he makes great food. Getting six hours sleep, you can imagine when I finally awoke, baggy eyed and sour faced, people were not as fortunate as the reader is, to escape my wrath.
Fuelled with an awful nights non sleep, coupled with some maths revision and a plateful of guilt for causing misery to my best friend I looked forward with a heavy heart to a four hour gruelling shift. Yes I’m a teenager; we complain a lot, bear with me.
The life of a lowly waiter
Expected guests : 76
Expected stress :10/10
Hungry guests :12
My day :11/10
From the chef teaching to me how to do fancy prep with vegtables, to Drinking coffee while eating chips and my favourate kind of chicken (southern fried if anyone need know) I agree withthe statistics.
The statistics say it all really. The hardest part of my shift was refilling the salt and pepper pots which to be fair, should not be attempted by the faint hearted, or those who can’t handle their pepper.
But this mind bogglingly painful task of pepper sniffing gave me a revelation. So many possibilities opened up to me as my nasal passages felt more than just chilly peppered air flood them. It was inspiration, of no ordinary kind. It was the kind inspired by experience; to me, the best kind.
Will I write another dear diary? Who knows? Ask more interesting questions like will it snow in the arctic tomorrow, will the polar bears eat well tonight.
All I know for certain is, there are poems to be written and articles in the future, all you have to do is wait for me to draw enough breath to write them.