I quit my horrible waitressing job in the morning, which I wish was a better story than it is. Mr. Fancy Pants wasn’t there, so I had to tell my manager Brett that I was not coming back. If it was Mr. Fancy Pants, I would have let him have it. But Brett’s only fault is that he is absolutely clueless. Overall, he’s a nice guy though. Telling him I was quitting felt a lot like breaking up with someone. He looked so distraught and confused as I tried to explain that I wasn’t happy working there and that Think Coffee was just a better place for me. He couldn’t comprehend that I was leaving. But I didn’t care. I was free.
That night I met up with Travis and one of his co-workers to go to a Macallan Scotch tasting. They had super fancy hors d’oeurves and a Scottish man who talked to us about the distilling process as we sampled different ages of the whiskey. It was fun, and best of all free. As I was on my way to meet Travis, I had seen some sort of festival in the other direction. After the tasting was over, we headed over to what turned out to be Little Italy. It was the Feast of San Genarmo. I don’t know what exactly what that means other than the fact that there was a massive fair. We got some Italian sausage and some cannolies. Delicious and in high contrast to the filet mignon/horseradish appetizers we had sampled at the Macallan event.
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