Don’t Panic

Girls' Weekend November 2011

Wake up well rested and Mike, Troy, and I decide to start watching Homeland. It won a bunch of awards last night, so it must be good. Yes, Mike is downloading them. None of us feel good about this: I just want to put it out there that we are not proud of ourselves. But dude, we’re broke and we don’t have cable. If we can watch some good television and movies, so be it.

Tuesday, the management office calls again. John lets me know that the guarantor application has gone through and it’s good. Nice, but he’s still waiting to hear back from Ines and the Applied Property office in Hoboken. Crap. OK, I call him back and tell him to call Mark instead of Ines. Mark is the one collecting our rent each month anyway, and I know that’s all he cares about. I only have an email address for Ines. Mike texts Mark to let him know about the call, when Mark is calling him. They already called him; he gave a good reference for us. Whew. OK, just waiting on Hoboken. I was never late with a payment, so there shouldn’t be a problem. John doesn’t call back.

Work is pretty slow tonight when I have a major blonde moment – it doesn’t help that Tropez is constantly telling me I’m blonde. These two people are sitting at the bar and ask for the check. Give me two cards to split the check. My credit card machine isn’t working for some reason, so I have to go over to the server station. Before I do, Tropez asks me to drop off some drinks at a table. I put the checkbook under my arm, grab the drinks and walk out to the table to drop them off. I walk back to the server station, open the book, and there’s only one card. Curse word. Start searching. Nothing. I walk back and forth on the route I took, which is too far – behind the bar, over to the server station, over to the table. People are looking under the table for me. One customer asks if I’m looking for a rodent. Yes, because I would definitely ask customers to look under their table for a mouse. I’m frantic now. I’ve lost this person’s credit card. And the two of them are late for a meeting. Great. The lady leaves, and the guy stays looking for his card. He doesn’t speak to me. He’s pissed. I’m humiliated. I’m pretty much shaking when Tropez stops me. “Relax. It’s OK. I’m here.” This is no comfort. It’s not OK Tropez. Where the hell is this card? I don’t know where it could be. Now I’m walking around feeling like I’m definitely not going to find it, but I have to keep looking. I walk behind the bar. Tropez follows me. “Did you check your apron?” C’mon, Tropez. I simultaneously stick my hands into my apron and feel, yes, a credit card. You, idiot. Mortified, I run the card and give it to the guy. Thankfully, he didn’t see me find it in my apron. I apologize profusely to him, telling him there’s no excuse for misplacing his card. He won’t even look at me. Screw you then, jerk.

Tropez doesn’t give me crap for it, he just tells me I’m too tense. “You’re 25? And you’re going to have a heart attack?” Momo has a similar reaction. “Are you like this at home?” That’s when it really hits me. Yes. I am like this. I’m like this all the time.

When I get home I finally decide to pop in the DVD the girls sent me and am immediately happy that I did. It’s way more than I thought it was going to be – I was expecting just a slideshow of pictures, but this has pictures and videos of most of our Girls’ Weekends from the past five years. This past year Kelly O had a little something written up for the each of us, and each note is included at some point during the video. I love it. I start to watch it with Mike, not knowing it’s going to be a long video. “43 minutes! I’m not watching this.” I wait until later to watch it by myself, and I’m way too excited about it. Laugh and almost cry at some parts. It’s a good end to my night.


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