In Which I Hide

"Where's Paul?" the boss asked.
"He's hiding!" his girlfriend replied.

And I was! At the very least I doing my best to frequently seek the relative calm and safety of the kitchen, hoping beyond hope that the dishwasher would have more glasses washed which I could shelve and dodge all these people wanting drinks.

Working in a restaurant is way too chaotic for me. It was busy, very busy ... and I'm told this isn't remotely as busy as it will get in a few weeks. I can't imagine. I don't want to be there to witness it. I am not enjoying this any more.

I'd like to quit, but everyone tells me what a great job I'm doing. They can all see how frazzled I am and I'd like the boss to say to me "You don't like this, do you?" and I'd say no, this is something that's way beyond me. Instead, all I hear is how good I'm doing, how great it is to have me and I feel guilty.

But there's no way I'm going to make it through summer. I took a break and walked around the block and I was very tempted to simply get my coat, clock out and leave. Instead I came back and hid.

Oh my God.