Wait, did I take a wrong turn and end up back in third grade?

Never ever, have I ever worked in a place where the staff has their behinds so firmly planted in high school. I'm simply not the kind of middleagedwaitress that sneaks around like a creeper, listening to peoples innocent convos, reading all sorts of things into them and then ZOOM scampering off to the manager to tattle. Why, you might ask? Why not jump on the bandwagon of tattle tailing mania since it seems to be the cool thing to do? Hmmm, because I am not 7 years old perhaps.

I had the audacity the other evening to suggest the fact that I had other things going on in my life outside of Captain Rig's (gasp!) The setting was a lighthearted chat about vacations (what are those?) and how if the opportunity arose to take one I would jump, no LEAP at the chance. "Well" snipped my coworker "You couldn't go then, or then, or then because you'd have to be here." Looking at her out of the corner of my eye with a fairly high level of amusement/disgust at her unyielding dedication to our fab job I suggested that I could probably manage to get over the terrible guilt, especially if there were palm trees and cocktails involved. My tone was clearly one of jest, and her expression was clearly one of horror in the fact that I could so betray my loving and tender employers in such an appalling fashion. She literally scuttled off to promptly tell Bobbi that I was a slacker, sub par employee and that I shouldn't be there. HAH!!

Basically, everywhere you turn at Good Old CR's there is somebody stabbing somebody else in the back. It's par for the course and I have become fairly good at ignoring everyone else's drams. Or at least getting a bit of amusement out of it.

Stay tuned for my next episode of tales from the world of insanity to see what happens when, against my will, I become a victim of the drama llama!