I left for Colorado a week ago. My local bar manager told me he wanted me on the schedule full time when I returned. With that good news in hand, I turned down another job that had just been offered, and I reduced my shifts to one at the dive. Oh, and I booked a flight home from Colorado in time to start the full-time gig.
But hey, this is the Keys, baby. Go with the flow. Chill. Take it as it comes to you. No stress!
Wednesday morning, my co-worker texted me to call our manager. Turns out, our shifts had been rearranged and cut because a slow, ancient bartender over whom I ring double and triple every shift despite my limited experience, wanted what the manager had just given me. Or he’d quit. His little tantrum worked. He won’t have to quit.
But, you know, it’s the Keys. So what? It’s all good here in paradise, right?
Of course, all will be fine. I’ll work out my work life like everyone else does down here–by piecing together shifts at various places as I can. I might get a roommate to reduce my cost of living. I might move to a pretty trailer next door and pay far less rent on my own. Or, I might just wonder if this is the third “sign” in couple of weeks that makes me second guess the appeal of this whole paradise thing.
But really, it’s the Keys. It is beautiful, peaceful, unbelievable. Problem is, you just can’t believe a damn thing anyone says to you. Ever. The truth changes with the wind and then ebbs with the tide. Then you stop listening.
But hey, it’s the Keys. Would that I could be home, now.