Can't sleep. My feet are aching. I’ve been working at the restaurant most days and evenings because Mateo, who was hired to work as a pizza cook, decided not to show up anymore. He has to travel from Tijuana to San Diego everyday, which means getting up at 5.30am to be in San Diego for 8.30am. Ouch!
To be honest I don’t think that he really cared for the job AND I suspect that he was responsible for the pizza that annoyed Andrea last Friday.
Now I spend my days slicing cheese, lettuce, dry salami, onions (the tears just keep coming), more cheese, egg plant, and any thing else Noel can find for me to slice. My evenings are spent in front of ‘Mother Oven’ making Pizza and sandwiches.
Friday was a busy day and evening. I must have prepared and cooked over 60 Pizzas. It could be much higher I wasn’t counting.
I accept that for the next while there will be a pong of flour or pizza or food in general coming from me. Even after I shower Andrea maintains that there is still a smell. Every day the conversation goes something like:
Andrea: ‘Did you wash your hair?’
Andrea: ‘Did you wash under your arms?’
Andrea: ‘Are you sure?’
Andrea: ‘There’s still a smell.’
Me: ‘I know!’
Andrea: ‘I’m just saying, that’s all’
Me: ‘I know’
I don’t expect it to change in the short term; it’s just is part of the job.