February 6, 2003
Jumping Jill
If I am going to drive my truck, and/or any vehicle for that matter, I need to make myself colourful and eye-catching signs to put in the window.
Sign One: 'New Driver. Get off my Ass.' I feel that the vulgarity is necessary.
Sign Two: 'It's Techno, OK?' I suffer the problem of getting strange looks from people when there is nothing to be heard outside the automobile but a booming bass, and, I being a small, awkward looking white girl, am not down with the flava. It's techno, ok?
I think I am going to name the truck Spartacus. It seems somehow fitting, despite the fact that it does not really rumble down the street dominant gladiator style. It is more like the gladiator that peed his pants and then got eaten by a lion. But. All the same.
Despite the fact that I walked with only 42 dollars last night, I feel that work was an overall victory. For the first time since I've started there, I managed to maintain my three tables with refills, fresh bread, remembered salad dressings and steak sauces, prompt checks, and the ever elusive straws. I was tipped well all night, but I came in at five and was basically shut down four hours later. So. Good money for four hours, no? That's ten-fifty an hour.
Must study for English exam. Geoffrey Chaucer is calling.
astera at 10:54 a.m.