‘G’s Music.

I was looking through CDs in front of my stereo, looking for something to inspire me. Or least pass the time with. I picked my Audioslave self-titled and openned it, to discover the “G” CD.

Way back last spring/winter, I worked at Ye Olde Panera. G was the weekend prep/dish guy. He had an affinity for disco, so I made him a mix for the back-of-the-house to listen to in the morning.

I put it in my stereo. Immediately, the facade of resentment faded and I remembered all those embarassingly good times I had there. For seven months, Panera Bread was home. Just by being myself, I was well-liked. (With the exception of my District Manager.) Through ten or so manager type people above me, every last one of them had a positive opinion of me.

I remember the life I gave to that place. I remember how I quickly became The Man. I could multi-task like a mofo. Whenever there was a lack of managerial presence, I was the one that stepped up. I could always sense what things needed to be done first, as opposed to people who would rather sit on their ass and wait to be told to do things. I remember feeling a sense of pride and satisfaction. I remember being abused and taken advantage of. But I remember all those hours of overtime. I remember being the one to come in on my days off and staying late because Mike fucked up the schedule again.

I remember George. Ugh, I refused to serve him eventually. I remember Ciabatta Jim. Rita. What’s-her-name that tended to get a chai. How people would ask me to make their cappiccinos because apparently few other people foamed as much as I did. I remember that girl that would always ask me for a cup of coffee, even if there were other people around. I specifically remember one morning when she was the only person I rung up. I was doing other things that day, but I couldn’t help but take her 1.69.

I remember being fatigued and stressed. The attitude grew as I felt manager incompetence. And rightfully so. I remember lower back aches. I remember how lifting a full pot of coffee came to be something I could do effortlessly. So much so that I could bring out two at the same time, one in each hand. I remember the scent that place had during the dead of winter, that became neutral as I acclimated.

I think about where I am now and how a seemingly trivial job helped me gain my confidence. For seven months, Panera was home. Liz reminded me of how I felt I had found my niche, in expressing her joys of working at Barnes & Noble. I remind myself that everything I learned there, I learned on the spot, and fast. Some things nobody really told me. *taps head* I remind myself that I could, in fact, work anywhere, if I wanted to.

I know Erik and Marissa have probably said something to me about “coming back” someday. Have enough time pass and ask me, I could not help but say that I’d be comfortable putting the apron, hat, and nametag back on. Really, if Scott wasn’t the DM, I wouldn’t mind working some odd shifts. I can already see myself explaining myself to whoever’s the GM. I can do anything in the house. Regardless of the circumstances of my involuntary termination, my personality is a good one.

Then I think, “Why don’t you get a job somewhere else? You can find a new home.”

Eh. Maybe. Go be a retail slave somewhere else, and maybe leave there without the big FIRED stamp on me. Heh.

Just thoughts, that’s all.

And Melissa better be flattered as hell that she’s STILL popping up in my dreams.