When I wasn't doing my job, which required me to walk guests to tables or play with the front desk computer, occasionally rolling silverware, I stood still. It's not the same everyday. I remember I didn't get along with some of my coworkers. There wasn't friction but there was resistance. I felt like I didn't belong in that 'clique'. My new friend, the trainer, didn't help that. He was friendly with me. Even cooler than the rest because he was a trainer for a seperate position. He found out shortly after I started that I was barely old enough to be a server but due to work policy, if I wanted to serve, it would have to be after three months.
Now at the time that I started working at this restaurant, I was living in my own two bedroom. I lived with my boyfriend. I had just returned from a two week vacation to New York. My mind was only focused on work and supporting my family. My daughter was two at the time. When I worked, she stayed with my mother and she went to school. I was coming back from a serious depression that had basically stripped me. I felt after my trip that I was better and recovered. This all being immedietly after my 21st birthday. I left my teenager job and this new job was the beginning of something brand new. The last thing on my mind was the playful behavior between me and my fellow coworkers.
When I started, my coworkers were curious to find out who I was. I told them and they seemed supportive. A lot of my coworkers were married. I only assumed everyone was so I wouldn't piss anyone off. Doing that helped me treat everyone equal. It doesn't matter but people like to flirt or be playful and imagining everyone having a partner made it easier for me to feel like I wasn't ever going to cross an invisible line.
I never thought of it because I came home to someone for a few minutes but that didn't last long.
Not even a week in, my boyfriend at the time had revealed his indescretions while I had been away in NY. He expressed his guilt and confusion. There was a lot going on that inspired his choice. He was living with me and I understood why he did what he did but it was over. We tried. He left on an off for the next little bit. He eventually moved out on my request. Only for a few weeks of work did he stay with me.
I can say that I felt guilty for how I handled my pain. I won't ever do it that way again but perhaps my method is what got me into this mess.
I had just shared with a few coworkers the happy life I had and that I was not interested in 'Sex Street' that my coworkers 'warned' me about.
" These people are professionals. So and so is on limits. So and so is off limits. Make good choices."
Walking into work after all that had happened in my home made me feel like my job was the escape. I felt embarrassed but that didn't last. I was receiving attention and at that specific time, it was enough to distract from the pain of everything.
I'm shy in person so it wasn't like I was ready to flirt and remove my shirt. Only certain people felt comfortable in my company. Mostly the guys with one exception and she and I still remain friends today.
I won't say his name so until I come up with one, I will call him suspenders.
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