I was working at Legal Seafoods in 2001. Two years prior to that, I was swept up in Y2K mania. I did my damndest to get New Year's off, because, to probably misquote myself, "I don't want to be serving salmon at the end of the world." I ended up getting the holiday off and it felt great, even when it turned out I was worrying about nothing.
When 9/11 happened, I was pretty much broke and gearing to recover what I lost from apartment problems and vacationing with my girlfriend in spite of apartment problems (I have not taken a vacation for almost three years now, not wanting to repeat past mistakes). That Tuesday morning, I was training a new group of servers when the bartender came in with his bike and gave the news. I thought he was joking, of course. I changed my mind when I got to the TV just before the last Tower fell.
I had only one theory: someone was taking revenge for Timothy McVeigh being executed (read about The National Alliance, The Turner Diaries and how he's connected to them before you judge me as nuts).
But what was my first actual action? Going back to teach the class.
Going over the fine art of...serving salmon.
When the world ended.
At least as I knew it.
The boss actually had to stop me, I was so mindlessly loyal to a job and class/service system I hated with all my heart.
No comments:
Post a Comment