I haven't worked since March 16th.
That is highly unusual for me.
Therefore I am beginning to feel highly unusual.
And that's no picnic for Tim or Massey, who unfortunately live with me.
Or am I living with them at this point?
After eight long weeks of (not so) patiently waiting, my unemployment finally began to trickle in.
By the time COVID 19 closed my restaurant down on March 16, I was down to a solid twenty or twenty five hour work week, which netted me $500 a week and more often than not, more.
After being a waitress full time for forty years, that was fine and good with me.
My feet hurt.
My husband has now held a wonderful job for the past five years. He is very much appreciated by his company, as well as compensated, and continues to climb the ranks.
Who'd a thunk Ole Jed would hit that Texas Tea when they sent him to Lubbock, way back when?
#thetimeIstayedinNewnan
Five hundred bucks a week isn't a lot, but when it is taken away sure seems so.
When I was at my wits end, after emailing the governor and both state representatives about waiting over forty five days for any type of assistance to no avail... a manager (and his lovely wife) from my old job back in Atlanta mailed us a more than extremely generous Club Pub gift card.
It was like Christmas Day for me, which is ironic considering they are both Muslims.
As Leslie Jordan would say...
"You can't make this shit up."
And I'm not.
Fast forward a day or two... my money suddenly began to come in from unemployment in a sporadic and spastic fashion, but at least it came in.
I have worked and paid taxes since I was fourteen years old.
The money they are depositing into my account is a heck of a lot less than what has been taken out of each and every one of my own paychecks since 1974.
I'm also glad I have always claimed all of my tips; since they based my payout on what I claimed.
Cha Ching!
I am also weeks away from being sixty years old.
To my credit, the above is au natural, although makeup would have been a huge help.
But as Popeye said in the fifties and sixties, "I yam what I yam."
So my job started to contact some employees to come back to work, planning on opening soon with limited hours - Wednesday through Saturday, from 3-10...with rigid procedures and safety regulations in place.
Once again, as Leslie Jordan would say,
I worked from ten or eleven in the morning until three or four in the afternoon. It took me almost three years to work my way up to exclusively working the day shift.
I've heard nothing but crickets from my former job.
On the up side...
I also have had nothing but spare time...and quickly learned to love it.
Thank God we bought and moved into our forever home before this happened.
All I've ever wanted is a yard to play in and look at; able to admire from windows inside of my house, to admiring it while walking outside, on my way back down a long driveway from the mailbox, smelling the jasmine both ways.
This...is my idea of paradise.
I wake up every morning, happy to look out my bedroom windows as I stretch and wake up, not even having to get out of bed to do so. It is certainly a daily inspirational scenario.
We lived in a rented tiny cement box for over two years.
I now realize we do live in paradise.
I am a very blessed person, and don't think for one single minute that I take any of it for granted.
Life can...and often does, throw curve balls.
Been there done that.
A couple of times now.
I am almost sixty now,
and have been a server for forty years.
I'm not real smart, but I am smart enough to know COVID19 is real...
and could easily kill someone my age.
I wait on people in a upscale restaurant/bar five minutes from the airport of the number one travel destination in the world.
Talk about some germs.!
I'll sit home and wait until they call me back to work, if they do.
If they don't...that's okay too.
When things ( hopefully) finally clear up and we all get back to what is surely destined to become the new type of normal, maybe they will give me a call and I can be their Day Shift Diva once again.
I can say with full confidence that I'm a hard ass worker and have more loyalty than most Cher fans.
(which says a lot)
If not,
it just simply wasn't meant to be...but a phone call or text would have been nice.
Just sayin'
Till next time
Continuing to be a COTTON
By the time COVID 19 closed my restaurant down on March 16, I was down to a solid twenty or twenty five hour work week, which netted me $500 a week and more often than not, more.
After being a waitress full time for forty years, that was fine and good with me.
My feet hurt.
My husband has now held a wonderful job for the past five years. He is very much appreciated by his company, as well as compensated, and continues to climb the ranks.
Who'd a thunk Ole Jed would hit that Texas Tea when they sent him to Lubbock, way back when?
#thetimeIstayedinNewnan
Five hundred bucks a week isn't a lot, but when it is taken away sure seems so.
When I was at my wits end, after emailing the governor and both state representatives about waiting over forty five days for any type of assistance to no avail... a manager (and his lovely wife) from my old job back in Atlanta mailed us a more than extremely generous Club Pub gift card.
It was like Christmas Day for me, which is ironic considering they are both Muslims.
As Leslie Jordan would say...
"You can't make this shit up."
Fast forward a day or two... my money suddenly began to come in from unemployment in a sporadic and spastic fashion, but at least it came in.
I have worked and paid taxes since I was fourteen years old.
circa 1974
I'm also glad I have always claimed all of my tips; since they based my payout on what I claimed.
I am also weeks away from being sixty years old.
To my credit, the above is au natural, although makeup would have been a huge help.
But as Popeye said in the fifties and sixties, "I yam what I yam."
So my job started to contact some employees to come back to work, planning on opening soon with limited hours - Wednesday through Saturday, from 3-10...with rigid procedures and safety regulations in place.
Once again, as Leslie Jordan would say,
I worked from ten or eleven in the morning until three or four in the afternoon. It took me almost three years to work my way up to exclusively working the day shift.
I've heard nothing but crickets from my former job.
On the up side...
I also have had nothing but spare time...and quickly learned to love it.
Thank God we bought and moved into our forever home before this happened.
All I've ever wanted is a yard to play in and look at; able to admire from windows inside of my house, to admiring it while walking outside, on my way back down a long driveway from the mailbox, smelling the jasmine both ways.
This...is my idea of paradise.
I wake up every morning, happy to look out my bedroom windows as I stretch and wake up, not even having to get out of bed to do so. It is certainly a daily inspirational scenario.
I now realize we do live in paradise.
I am a very blessed person, and don't think for one single minute that I take any of it for granted.
Life can...and often does, throw curve balls.
Been there done that.
A couple of times now.
I am almost sixty now,
and have been a server for forty years.
I'm not real smart, but I am smart enough to know COVID19 is real...
and could easily kill someone my age.
I wait on people in a upscale restaurant/bar five minutes from the airport of the number one travel destination in the world.
Talk about some germs.!
I'll sit home and wait until they call me back to work, if they do.
If they don't...that's okay too.
When things ( hopefully) finally clear up and we all get back to what is surely destined to become the new type of normal, maybe they will give me a call and I can be their Day Shift Diva once again.
I can say with full confidence that I'm a hard ass worker and have more loyalty than most Cher fans.
(which says a lot)
If not,
it just simply wasn't meant to be...but a phone call or text would have been nice.
Just sayin'
Till next time
Continuing to be a COTTON
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