It’s my day off (Thursday) as I currently write this and aside from a bunch of expletives, I’ve no idea how to accurately describe the mixed emotions I feel after working on Station 2 for the first time last night.

Oh well, might as well get it off my chest:


I admit I wasn’t very brave going into this. I definitely whined a lot and more than once half-seriously pleaded for Elliot (who was in the window) to trade places with me. I drank a quart and a half of coffee, fought down the occasional wave of fear-induced nausea, jokingly threatened to projectile vomit, and more than once inwardly wished I was dead.

I didn’t do the greatest job of calling out tickets either; it was through the luck and pluck of my fellow linemates that I managed to squeak by the peak dinner hour. When I was lagging Fred did the salad pickup about twice for me, and Sylvester helped cook off three anchovy flatbreads while I floundered around cooking focaccia and struggled to pull my head out of my ass–I distinctly recall one time where Sylvester asked me to report on his all day fires and while I heard his request, my brain had shut down by then and all my mouth could muster speechwise was “Uh…guh.” FAIL.
My legs were turning into jelly.
Fred plated some anchovies on a flatbread for me.
I burned a focaccia.
I made an ugly flatbread that couldn’t be sold and was taken downstairs to be shared. (Elliot did say later that it was tasty though.)
Fail, fail, fail, FAIL.

But I didn’t get pulled off the station and no one bailed me out. Thanks to Elliot’s dogged persistence (“C’mon Betty, work faster! Faster! Make those focaccia! Watch your crostini! Rotate your flatbread!”) and his flippant refusal to switch out with me, I stuck it out and Koren gave me a high-five later that night. Elliot congratulated me for surviving. I was so relieved and elated when I realized it was 11PM that I did a cartwheel in the basement. And then I triumphantly brought up some shift beer for the boys (and that day’s stage).

Ah! This bittersweet feeling! I came out spiritually bruised and exhausted but alive! I didn’t necessarily face my fear and kick some ass, but I endured my Station 2 beating and clawed my way out! I am humbled; I respected Ruth’s tenacity on Station 2, but now after experiencing it for myself I definitely admire her.

What else is there to say? Elliot said to just keep up with focaccias and work on my communication (duh and duh), but c’mon really. It was my first day. I could barely make sense of my own tickets to fully deal with anybody else’s. I’ll get better with time though. Right? Right?! >_>;;;;

I work on Station 3 for the rest of the week but what next week will look like is anyone’s guess.

I am very grateful to Elliot and in my heart I’m crying bittersweet tears. Aw, I’m a big girl now.