Type A Meets Plan B
Type A Meets Plan B
Not so long ago I was on top of the world. Beautiful house, nice car, great job...in fact I actually thought I was about to get a big promotion. I went into work that day feeling confident, optimistic, and unstoppable. Then the big moment arrived. My boss called me into his office and told me...I was fired. Like, escorted from the building fired. Carrying the contents of my office in a box fired.
So it was farewell Mercedes, hello bus pass.
Adios beach house, hola Mom's house.
Goodbye boardroom, hello barmaid.
Yup, that's right. My daughter and I moved back home with my mother, the psychotherapist, which will probably end up sending me to therapy myself. And after six months of looking for a new job I accepted the only one I was offered — waitressing in my brother's bar. I was a VP at a Fortune 500 company — surely serving beer and refilling pretzels bowls were within my skillset.
Should've been easy money...except for a few tiny details I overlooked:
- I couldn't pour beer. Kind of crucial in my new line of work. My first few customers basically got mugs of foam. I tried to pass it off as "light" beer. Fewer calories, less filling... but they weren't buying it. I mean, they literally refused to pay, much less tip.
- My sister-in-law drives me crazy. Having my brother for a boss isn't too bad, but let's just say that if you Googled "passive aggressive" Stephanie's image would probably be at the top of the list of results. She just loves giving me "helpful hints" on how to live my life better. Now, that's hard for me to take from anyone, much less a girl I used to babysit in high school. If I'd known what I was in for, I would've savored the power I had to send her to bed at eight o'clock while I still had it.
- My uniform. Yes, let's talk about my uniform. I've gone from power suits and designer dresses to what I can only describe as referee/stripper chic: Tight black short shorts and an even tighter black and white striped top with a V-neck deep enough to show off my only remaining assets.
- My "anger issues." My former boss suggested that I might, sometimes, in some circumstances come off as a tiny bit aggressive. But in my defense, I was a little self-conscious about the cleavage I was sporting in my new uniform, so when a customer (a very cute customer) greeted "the girls," I had to set him straight. I told him in no uncertain terms that while I might be forced to wear this uniform, I was not going to take any chauvinistic crap from jerks like him. At the end of my rant, he pointed to his two adorable daughters, his "girls," who had arrived to join him for dinner. Oops.
Admittedly, it wasn't the best first day, but I've decided to have a good attitude about this whole thing. It's about growth and silver linings and looking on the bright side and all that stuff people say when crappy things happen to you, right?
But there really are some upsides to being downsized: I used to pay guys to clean my pool, now I get paid to serve guys playing pool. I used to have huge dry cleaning bills, now my polyester uniform is machine washable. See? Silver linings.
But truthfully, the best parts of my new life are that I get to hang out with my brother again, spend more time with my daughter, reconnect with my best friend from high school, and remember that cute guy I mentioned? Turns out, it's a whole lot easier to meet guys now that I spend my days in a sports bar wearing a skimpy outfit. Who would've thought?
So, I'm learning to take the good with the bad and here's my advice to you: When life gives you lemons...grab some tequila and salt and enjoy it.
Jennifer Falls, Wednesdays 10:30/9:30c on TV Land