Oh yes, that wonderful little thing called 'stress'. Everybody gets stressed at some point; happening several times in their lives, and it's different for every one. Just as well, every one has their own way of dealing with stress, though, sometimes, the stress is so bad that nothing seems to work. I do believe every one has felt that kind of stress more often than not.
Now, for me, stress is not a common thing. I'm a fairly laid-back, take-it-with-a-grain-of-salt, apathetic kind of girl. But when I am stressed...well, you better have enough sense to leave me alone and head for the hills because when I finally lose my temper because of it, nothing is safe from my violent, shrieking rampage.
Case in point; around 4-5 weeks ago at work, I received a call from one of my fellow cooks, Natalie; her back had given out three days prior and was calling to let us know she wouldn't be able to work come Monday. Since I was to work that morning anyway, I told I would do a double shift (that way John, the third cook, could have his day off like he was supposed to.) She was very apologetic about it; hating the idea of asking someone to cover her shift. I dismissed her apology (why should she apologize?) and told her it was alright and to get better. Later that day, as I switched shifts with John, I filled him in. We agreed I would do the double on Monday, and he would do a double on Wednesday-which was my day off anyway- and we would just work through the rest of the week, knowing full well that she wouldn't be back that week. The second week rolled in, we were informed she was no better. Instead of doing one double shift each, John and I decided to just work through the week switching shifts, because doing a double just took too much out of us ( I worked the day shift, while he worked the evening). The boss had been conducting interviews since halfway through the first week.
Even though it was just the second week, John and I felt the toll it was taking on our bodies. I don't know what John's temper was, but I had become increasingly moody. The fact that I had my 'monthly gift' that week didn't help. At work, I was depressed, the waitresses -bless them- did their best to make me laugh, which worked, but my mood would just as quickly go back down. At home was different; I would snap at the littlest thing, glare and snarl. If it wasn't that, then it was just spacing out, becoming docile and doing request with little complaint. The only thing keeping my sanity was reading and listening to music on my laptop. My family knows well enough to leave me alone when I get snappy.
The third week rolled in, no days off, John and I switched our shifts, and I was on evening. The boss was still doing interviews. We were barely holding up. By the time Wednesday came around, a huge freak snowstorm hit and business was slow. Excruciatingly slow. I barely had any work to keep my mind off my tired body. I just couldn't do it anymore. I felt cold (even with a sweater on), then my head was pounding, then I started to feel a bit dizzy, my stomach was churning a little. I had even dozed off for 15 minutes of my break. I waited an hour to see if it would pass, before letting the head waitress that night know that I really wasn't feeling well. She then phoned the manager, Nova, to let her know what was going on. Nova had her make me clean up as I could, quickly inform the other waitresses how to use certain equipment should they get an order, and made me go home. My shift had started at 5pm, I left at 9:30pm. I lasted four an d a half hours that day. Once I got home, I showered and passed out on my my bed and didn't get up til the next day, my body just burned out. My mom informed that I had slept 12 hours straight.
Oh, and to top it all off; I had a head cold a small sinus infection for those three weeks.
That morning, Nova called to see if I was feeling better and if I would be able to make it in for my shift. I quickly confirmed I would be there. I had felt bad about leaving early the night before. She had also informed me that we now had a new cook and John was training her.
Huh. A new employee the very next morning after my little burn out. Imagine that.
Well, when I heard that, I was a little pissed off, but didn't let it seep in to my voice while talking to Nova. Why would I be pissed? Because we should have had that new cook a week ago! Because it always take something drastic to happen at work for the boss to get her ass in gear! Did you know that we didn't have any rubber mats by the dish pit like we were supposed to have in the beginning until one of the waitresses did a total wipe-out, slamming into the dishwasher, while trying to get some clean dishes off the drying rack. It was a miracle she wasn't actually holding any dishes and only received a large bruise on her leg! And don't get me started on the stairs going down to the main fridge and freezer; several people have fallen going up and down them. I've fallen all the way down the stairs twice because the stairs are so fucking narrow and one step is broken. All of us have complained about it, but as far as I've seen, it'll take one of us actually breaking a leg or arm falling. And there's an exit sign by the back door in the kitchen that hanging by it's fucking wires, which I have also complained about. Guess it'll take that sign falling on some one's head to get it fixed.
Anyway...
John trained the new girl for a couple of days, and the very next week she started working regularly, giving me the day off I so sorely needed. Needless to say, I mostly stayed in bed and played on my laptop. My brain function at that point was almost non-existent, and I refused to do anything at all. The stress had gotten to the point where I had become a bit depressed, and distant, despite my best friend trying her best to cheer me up. The only good thing to come of it was that I had lost quite a bit of weight. During those three weeks, the only thing that truly kept my sanity was writing. I rote anything, and I mean anything. Everything from short snippets of dialogue between characters in a fleeting story in my head, to character biographies for fanfiction that I'm propbably not going to write, to little drabbles and vignettes. Though admitedly, a lot of what I wrote was depressing and angry. But it helped a lot. I don't a lot of words to express myself verbally; instead, I write them down and weave them in to stories taken from images in my imagination. It may sound a bit pretentious, but I like to consider myself a true wordsmith whenever inspiration hits, as I'm sure any one feels like that when the urge to write hits them. My English teachers had always praised me for my writing...
So yes, those three weeks had been quite stressful. I vented as much as I would allow myself to on Twitter (and receiving much encouragement :)) and basically detached myself from reality as often as possible. Yes, I am aware of the fact that I'm probably sounding very emo, but I honestly don't care. I need to vent, and I'll do it wherever the hell I want. Bitch if you want, no one forced to read this entry :-P And on that note;
Make Pasta, not war. Ve~
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