Well, hate is such a weak word. I megaloathe it. Better? Who knows. Anyway, today was the most dreaded day of work possible. Today...was the liver and onions special.
FREAKING LIVER AND ONIONS. I absolutely hate the stuff. Smells like a rotten animal, tastes like a thousand pennies screaming their bloody last as they drown in gravy. For the uninitiated, liver and onions is (are?) completely disgusting.
Unless you happen to be a gomer. An old person. A resident at "Next Stop Heaven" old folks home, even. You know, like the one I work at. I've provided a handy chart to help understand the situation better.
As you can see, I was totally screwed, sentenced to a crime worse than death: serving this zombie-drug to hundreds of elderly folk, drowning in a sea of food tickets, constantly being nitpicked for my service while I simaltaneously drown in the three days of prep I'm STILL expected to put out. It usually goes like this?
And that's with about seven hours to go. Except today, it didn't really do that.
It just didn't.
...your guess is as good as mine. Orders piled to the ceiling seemed miniscule. Pitfalls I would usually explode in we're easily stepped over. Small tasks that usually seemed herculean on liver day were just that, small tasks. It was incredible. I don't know if I finally conquered my white whale, or if a different outlook on life is really starting to change things for me, but I do know one thing: when I was done, I actually tried the liver. Not half bad.
And that's definitely worth a grin.
PS: "Eli Says: When did you conquer YOUR "liver and onions." Figuratively speaking, of course. If liver and onions was also your white whale, I would like to point out you are not as interesting as me and should probably give up.
PSS: If your white whale is actually a white whale, can we hunt it together?