Saturday 21st June

Just got back from a 12½ hour shift. I’m absolutely knackered. Today was my 5th double shift (i.e. working at both lunch and dinner – about 9 or 10 hours a day), and after partying last night until 3am, I was ready to sleep today in my break between shifts. The first person to piss on my bonfire was Jen, who pointed out that we were needed at the beach club an hour earlier than normal to set up for dinner as tonight was the night of the member’s art show – thus cutting my break down to about an hour. The second person was Georgia (my supervisor), who told me that actually today I wasn’t going to get a break between shifts today, I was needed at the beach club at 2pm to help move tables and stuff about. The third person to piss on my bonfire (actually, he basically shit on it, and then dismantled it piece by piece) was John, who decided that I was needed tomorrow morning at 8am to serve people for breakfast. I’m only estimating, but I reckon that by the end of tomorrow, I will have worked a 60 hour week. I can’t explain how much I’m looking forwards to having two days off. The newbie who arrived after me (Maria, one of the Scottish girls) is only working 3 double shifts next week, and two single shifts. And yet I’m doing 5 doubles, two of which are starting at 8am! I’m going to take this as a compliment, as it probably means that they want my help and think that I’m a good hard worker – but I’m still pissed off at how hard I’m going to be working here. Oh well, maybe I’ll be able to afford that $3K guitar by the end of the summer (if I stay here) – apparently you earn time and a half for every hour over 40 you do in a week.