Florida Reflection Part 2

 Welcome back. This is Part 2 of my Florida Reflection.

So my grandparents moved into Prospect Point, and I was looking for work. I spent the night at their house often, sleeping in a hospital bed. I smoked weed with their Guatemalan friend (they didn’t know). “Tienes la mota?” I had the mota. None of my online applications were fruitful. I heard the bowling alley needed help, so I went in there in a Jean jacket and met with Tina, the food and beverage manager. “If you could be any animal, what would you be?” was one of the questions she asked me. I don’t remember what I said (probably a cat). Whatever I said it got me the job. 

I had no kitchen experience except for the bed and breakfast I worked at in Virginia (chicory coffee anybody?). Soon I was working a cash register and learning how to cook burgers and quesadillas, portioning French fries, and pre making pizzas with a ladle of sauce and a huge cup of cheese (we made pizzas out the ying yang). I liked my coworkers, especially Debbie who worked mornings and called me “sunshine.” I was friendly with Greg the bartender, a funny guy who came into our kitchen for beers and spare kegs; on Sundays I cooked him 12 wings in mild sauce ( grilled after fried) with extra celery and extra ranch. I started to remember customers usual orders, like the guy who always got a burger with mustard cut in quarters. I learned to pour cups and pitchers of draft beer (always tilt the glass against the spout). We baked Otis spunkmeyer cookies in a little cookie oven. We made pizzas and platters for birthday parties. It wasn’t a bad job, but I didn’t want to work there forever, and I didn’t.

I worked there for bout a year when my boyfriend broke up with me on the day before Thanksgiving (bummer). We’d been together like a year and a half. I didn’t think he was going to marry me but I didn’t think he’d break up with me. I guess the relationship had gotten stale. We spent a lot of time together and stayed up late drinking (we were burning the midnight oil and running out of gas). He told me I didn’t live the kind of life he wanted to, like partying and going out. Plus I didn’t want kids (I didn’t then ( now looking back those things seem contradictory…)). It hurt. The holiday sucked. I had to go into work. Feeling hopeless I helped Greg set up the Christmas tree in the alley. I obsessed over getting texts from him when I shouldn’t have been texting him at all (I didn’t know the break up rules). He said he would still be my friend. I couldn’t accept it. I remember having unusual heartburn and not being hungry. My boss Tina saw how miserable I was and offered to have Melissa, our coworker, give me a makeover. So I met Melissa at her salon and she gave me layers and highlights and straightened my thick wavy hair. I looked good, and I  felt a little better. That night I went to the bowling alley bar for drinks. Some people didn’t recognize me. Greg made me strong mixed drinks, and one of my coworkers drove me home (I lived right down the street). I had been texting my “ex”, and then he called me and we decided we loved each other and we should be together. We reunited that night. It was crazy. 

So we decided to move in together, since he lived in South Daytona and I lived all the way up in Ormond. It would make things easier. We found a two bedroom apartment with a one and a half bath in his same apartment complex for 750 a month. We would split it. I would drive all the way to Ormond for work (he worked at Louis Pizza House right down the street). It worked out cause he was tired of living with his brother and brother’s girlfriend, and I was tired of living with dad (who wasn’t working and I was paying all the bills). Our first night there we slept on his twin mattress (later we had to get a bigger bed) and I bought wine and bologna for dinner. I was finally like actually independent.

That was in December and by January his dad offered me to work at Louie’s on Fridays and Saturdays as a waitress (he owned the place). I accepted, and now I had two jobs and more money ( to buy like wine and stuff). We went out to Seabreeze Blvd (where all the bars and clubs are. Where the cool people go) for my birthday that month. It was fun. The next day I was hungover and I went out to Olive Garden with Ashley, my boyfriend’s brother’s girlfriend (now his wife). They sang happy birthday to me (ugh) and I got a free dessert (that was worth it). 

In August I got hired by the Center for Behavioral Medicine, and my boyfriend and I took a trip to Virginia (Virginia is for lovers!). I hadn’t been home for two years; I was a little homesick and missed my mom. The trip was not as great as I expected, but it was cool for him to see where I was from. We went to the Shenandoah National Park (where my mom works) and the Luray Caverns (my brother got us in for free). We went to Top Golf in Northen Virginia (we went to Top Golf a lot because he liked golf and I enjoyed it too (okay, just for the beer and nachos)). When we drove back home a hurricane was about to hit Florida so we hit up a Walmart for supplies, like a sterno stove, hand sanitizer, and cashews (why do I remember cashews?). I didn’t start my new job as expected. We were stuck in the apartment for a couple days, getting high and eating pizza. 

When I started my new job I kept working Saturday’s at the bowling alley to help with the truck, plus my shifts at Louie’s. That got old quick. I was glad I had a real job in an office. I was nervous as a new receptionist interacting with lots of clients. I picked it up quick but I still made mistakes, like booking appointments without getting payment. I don’t think I realized the seriousness of the business I was working for, which was an office with psychiatrists and therapists helping people with real mental problems, like PTSD and depression (and substance abuse). I was reluctant to book new patients because it was so much work to figure out which provider to book them with by matching up criteria like insurance and age and open time slots. Unfortunately, my favorite line was “the doctors are not accepting new patients.” I could say it in Spanish, too. 

Thank you for reading Part 2. 

(Btw, this is post #50 on the blog. Yay for me!)