Just another shit day

Life got hard last week. Too hard. So I took myself off to the hospital for the first time in my life. That was a fun experience trying to explain why I was there when I had laryngitis. I took a note with the basics to the hospital. Left a note with less info at home for my husband. Just where I’d gone and why.
Obviously couldn’t tell the hospital everything that was going on in my head and in my life with my 5 word at a time Bat Mouse voice. I literally sounded like a cross between Batman and Minnie Mouse. So they give me a bunch of sedatives and naturally assume I was a DV victim so wouldn’t tell my husband anything when he woke up, found my note and called them. Fun times.
3 days later I’m back home, and a bunch of flowers arrive from my new Manager. The same Manager who told me I need to control my emotional outburst at work because I got frustrated and rolled my eyes while on the phone with an indecisive customer who wanted me to read him the entire menu. Like seriously Mr New Manager if you think that’s an emotional outburst you’d best buckle in and get ready for the ride of your life, not that my masks falls off very often when I’m at work.

2 days after hospital I’m back at work picking up random shifts because I’m usually only rostered 1 per week as it’s not my main gig anymore. Main gig is closed for the next couple of weeks so I have all the free time in the world to do that stuck in my own head rubbish unless I’m well distracted.
Any-who on to tonight’s shenanigans. Everyone at work knows I don’t do dishes. I’m a bartender, but will occasionally do front of house when they are stuck. Mr New Manager has been told this by numerous people but sees it as not being a team player. I get it, kinda. But dishes are a place where I’m really only going to get stuck in my head and that’s not somewhere I want to be right now. It takes mental preparation at the best of times.
I picked up a front of house shift tonight and got to work 30 mins early as usual. Made my coffee, said hello to Mr Manager, Baby Boss, and all the other fine folk I work with, checked the bookings, checked the run sheet and section sheet. I’m on to be the runner. Not my favourite section but cool beans whatevs, go out the back have a smoke and put my game face on and mentally prepare myself and my shoes to be running 80+ meals. I’ve got my comfy running shoes on. Just think of the epic step count!
5 mins to start inside I go, clock on rahdida and Baby Boss comes to tell me I’m being swapped to dishes. Like seriously? WTF? Yep goodo this is going to be a great night! I’d been telling myself for weeks if this happened I was just going to suck it up and do it to prove I’m a team player and all that jazz. Should probably add that Baby boss is also new so doesn’t know me and my aversion to dishes all that well. They know I don’t do them but have never bothered to ask why.
I take a couple of minutes to calm my farm in the ladies and come back to the kitchen to lit up in the morgue apron that was made for a giant and not a 5 ft 1 munchkin that’s shorter than the high school kids.
Buuuuuuut here is where I made the fatal error. I told Baby boss quietly that I would do the dishes because that’s what was needed but I did not appreciate being told 5mins before I start when I’d been at work for 30mins. Or better still before I actually came in so I could 1. Mentally prepare myself properly and 2. Dress appropriately, dress pants, collared shirt and light weight running type nurse shoes do not make a great dishy outfit. A wet suit and non slip boots would have been a better option. Ok maybe no a wet suit but I have water proof snow pants that are perfect for dishes.
Next thing I know I’m up in Mr Managers office being told that I need to work where I’ve been reassigned because there is no one else to do the dishes. Ummmmm dude you have 5 kids downstairs who are more than capable and actually know where everything goes. Bit my tongue and didn’t say it. Repeated to him the same as what I’d said to baby boss that I’d do it but wasn’t happy about the super short notice blah blah. The dishy had called in sick at 9am. The person I was covering had called in at 3pm. Mr Manager told me I was not being a team player. Are you kidding me? Like for real? I said I would do it just wasn’t happy about the way it had been approached. Then the rest of the BPD kicks in and the tears start to flow. Soo we move into the “clearly you’re not ok and I’m going to send you home, I was supposed to go home to my wife but now I will stay and cover your dish shift.” It was never my dishy shift in the first place.
Then we move into the “you need to get help phase” and the overshare diarrhoea come gushing out. I’m getting help that’s why I was in the hospital last week. Yes I said the S word. Yes I told him the comments he’d made the week before had not helped, and I’m not feeling very supported with my mental health at work, telling me what I can’t do anymore rather than asking what I can do or paying attention to the fact I’ve filled in 5 shifts in the week I’ve been out of hospital and he has seen me on everyone of them and not noticed a thing because I have a process that works well for me.
Then he tells me that it was his idea to send me flowers when I got home from the hospital and I should be more appreciative. Yeah sure thing Mr Manager.
I do the walk of shame red faced still teary back down stairs past all my co-workers into the store room to get my bag and then back through the kitchen past the rest of the team to the car park and head home.
Is it done? Is it over? Hells no. Not even maybe. Within 30mins Baby boss is calling my husband to do a well fair check because I’m apparently suicidal over being asked to do the dishes. WTAF!
My level headed husband manages to explain to baby boss that 1. I am not currently suicidal, that was last week and my moods cycle rapidly and 2. It was never about the actual dishes it was about the last minute change.
Nearly 12 hours later and I’m still rapid cycling through more moods and emotions than most people could fathom. There’s anger and tears and sarcastic humour with a whole heap of confusion, frustration and WTF’s just happened. There’s guilt, there’s shame, there’s embarrassment. There’s nerves and fear that I’m back again to do it all over in 6 hours and I haven’t slept yet because I’m over thinking and trying to plan for the next shift.

sorry that was (as usual) a whole lot longer than I planned or intended. If you read it all you rock, I hope I at least have you a little giggle. If you can’t laugh you’ll cry right? Or something like that. And please just know I feel a lot better for getting it all out.