Closed the restaurant on Friday midnight and back again to open and work a party by 10 am. There was 3 1/2 hours of fitful sleep in between. Then I worked a regular restaurant close on Saturday night as well. A double shift on a Saturday! Don't these fuckers know how old I am? I keed. Sort of. I am beat. I ran out of gas around the half-way point but I rallied again at the end and managed to attend a going away gathering for one of the managers after work. I left after the third bottle of champagne was started and the second round of shots was downed. When you don't drink anymore, being at a bar is only fun up to a point. And that was as good an excuse as any to beat feet and get home to the dawg.
As a side benefit, I got a little extra cash for dragging my saggy white ass around the joint for 14 hours and then on top of that, the party hosts on Saturday afternoon left some cash for the managers to split. Not unheard of but very rare and most appreciated. Considering I was trying to stretch my last 10 dollars out until next Friday's payday. I now have more than enough spending money to carry me through the week and part way in to next. Huge relief. First thing I bought? A big bag of dog food and some extra cans.
I'm such a good dad....
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