The last week and 1/2 have been extremely hot. Granted I was off work for two of them but, I gotta tell you! 97° temps don’t feel too good when it’s 8.5 hours of it!
I’ve been averaging about 6 bottles of water a day. It would be easier if I wasn’t dealing with young cart pushers.
I’m not complaining so much as, expressing my frustration over what I need to accept as reality. Young people aren’t arsed to work when they don’t get paid enough to give a crank.
They also don’t deal well with being hot. I’ve, more than once, felt like mom-cart-pusher. I literally have to parent people into getting out there and staying committed. Do I know it’s hot as hell? Yes. Do I wish I could sit down and let mom-cart-pusher do all the work, sure. Problem is…I AM MOM CART PUSHER BITCHES!
And I’m not carrying your ass for 4 hours while you sit on a flat cart and whimper about how hot you are. Sigh****
ok, ok..rant over. I promise.
I guess living in Florida for 13 years and working outside at Disney turned into a strength. Who knew?
I’m still cranky about it though.
ps. Somewhere in the universe there exists a photograph of me in a hideous blue dress with birds on it, wearing a huge straw hat with a blackbird perched on the brim cawing at me in extreme volume. If you find it…please destroy it for me. Please…please. please.
This is the dress:
Told you it was hideous!