Would you like your martini, uh, milk, now?

Honestly, I probably should have been documenting my final 2 weeks as a bartender, but I really didn't want to. I didn't want to do anything else that related to that job. So, a bit of a recap:

After I (attempted to) put in my two weeks notice, the assistant manager told me that I needed to have my notice in writing (my bad, because I definitely knew that), and that I couldn't turn in my notice until Tuesday because that's when the payroll week ended/started. I was tempted to call BS, but I just nodded, said that made sense, and left the office. Let me also say that we had this conversation on a Wednesday.

Let me interrupt to say that I am extremely non-confrontational. So much so, it is usually a huge detriment to whatever I'm trying to do (see above). I was already shaking so badly during the conversation, there was nothing I wanted to do more than walk out of the office and sit down for half an hour. Which is why I didn't say anything.

I did, however, tell one of the other bartenders what she said, and he looked at me and was like, really? He proceeded to tell the other bartender who had just quit as well what she told me, and he called and left a voice mail on my phone saying, "She's full of shit and can't do that. If she enforces it, I can give you the number to corporate."

So. I took in my written two weeks notice the following day, with the date of the day before (Wednesday). I copied it and gave it to both her and the general manager. I heard nothing else out of her.

I like to view my form of confrontation as silent.

Some people call it passive-aggressive.

In the end, my two weeks came through from the date I requested. And even better, there was miscommunication of sorts and I ended up only having to work one week after I put in my two weeks, instead of two. I was not about to complain.

Even better news--I was just offered and accepted a job yesterday as a part time nanny for a family just a mile from my apartment. And they seem amazing. And I just got back from another family this morning who wants to use me for occasional sitting. It was only four hours, and I made as much as I would have on a 7.5 hour day shift with bartending, and the worst I had to deal with was some crying when the four year old girl was determined she needed a band-aid on her non-hurting toe.

Heaven.

I probably won't be calling nannying "heaven" much in the future, but wow. Today was so different from a day in the restaurant industry. And I am so grateful.

Two weeks

While it hasn't been two weeks since you looked at me (thank you Bare Naked Ladies), in two weeks it will be my last day at work.

(Holla!)

That is, when I go into work today, I will be putting in my two weeks.

It's me going out on a limb. It's me admitting to myself that I can do better. That I want better. So many people I work with complain at their jobs. "I hate being a server," "I can't wait to put in my two weeks," "I'm looking for another job." But they're still there. And as one conversation with a manager went a few weeks ago, they'll probably still be there in five years.

But, I've never been one to stick around in situations that I didn't like. My practical side is very up in arms at the moment, but I'm deciding to take a risk and put in my two weeks without any other job solidly lined up. I have potentials, but nothing grounded.

So, I take the risk.

The good news is, I have two weeks to nail something down. Give or take. More good news is that Lina is fully supportive of this, and is actually pushing me toward the decision because I "don't want to make my managers upset." We can survive off of her income for a bit if I don't find anything right away, which is also good.

While I am really not looking forward to this conversation with my manager, the dry erase board on the fridge here is really happy and has "two weeks!" in comic-writing form written on today. So, that settles it. I can't dally because it would be an affront to the dry erase board which has our days wonderfully scheduled out.

Two weeks!