Flee market

I was working today in the old peoples home, and last week I was alone, normally we are two. Not a problem. I served the 19 guests without being stressed.

However, today it was something different. It was a flee market in the home. Great I thought when walking in seeing this antique player at the entrance, and the oldies moving and smiling.

But nobody had told the two of us working there. Me and a nearly 90-year-old who is living in the home but is still fit and clear in the head.

We had nearly 60 guests in two hours, and several ordering more than once. The problem wasn't the serving, it was that we didn't have the equipment for it. The saucers, the cups, the sugar, the milk, everything was running out and we had to run into the kitchen and the other bigger cafeteria (closed on Saturdays) to fill up. And a small coffee machine that takes at least a minute to make one cup of java. Two of us serving, two hours, 60 guests. And none of them were patient, they were standing at the bar giving us orders left, right and center.

Nevertheless, I loved it. I'd much rather have stress and being busy, than standing there waiting for guests and being bored. But I do tell you, I have written an email to the manager to say, please next time give us some warning. Forewarned is forearmed.