I've learned a valuable lesson: never work retail while in the throes of a raging hangover.
My father turned 70 on Saturday. To celebrate the patriarch's birthday, we all gathered at the Hermosa Inn for the night, an old Scottsdale hotel thats quite nice. Classy without being too fancy pants. We had dinner in their wine cellar. Champagne, red wine, white wine, Johnny Walker, cognac... as soon as my glass emptied, some hand popped out of nowhere and refilled it. By midnight, I was a walking talking Tom Waits song, drunken and nonsensical.
On to Sunday: I spend a closing shift (12:30-8:30) hobbling about the store like a zombie, trying to avoid loud noises and customer questions (they're both technically the same thing, anyway). One of my co-workers called in sick, so we had to close the store understaffed. Not fun at all.
My father turned 70 on Saturday. To celebrate the patriarch's birthday, we all gathered at the Hermosa Inn for the night, an old Scottsdale hotel thats quite nice. Classy without being too fancy pants. We had dinner in their wine cellar. Champagne, red wine, white wine, Johnny Walker, cognac... as soon as my glass emptied, some hand popped out of nowhere and refilled it. By midnight, I was a walking talking Tom Waits song, drunken and nonsensical.
On to Sunday: I spend a closing shift (12:30-8:30) hobbling about the store like a zombie, trying to avoid loud noises and customer questions (they're both technically the same thing, anyway). One of my co-workers called in sick, so we had to close the store understaffed. Not fun at all.
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jtemperance:
Yadj. That sounds rather miserable. And the mixing of drinks; that typically eats me alive.
waldo_jeffers:
Hobbling about the store like a zombie? Oh, yeah, just like those fellows in Dawn Of The Dead!!! 