The Greek Restaurant from Hell

Sorting through my old emails, I’ve come across a paragraph I’d written in late September 2006. It was at a time when I’d been working at a terrible little Greek restaurant in the West end. I didn’t like my job very much, and though the pay was decent, I was still (clearly) willing to leave it all behind for anything that seemed more exciting:

One of my friends from highschool has formed a little band in the past year or two, and they’re playing in Hamilton tonight, so I think I’m going to go to that… now I just have to figure out how to get out of my stupid restaurant job. I’m sure the other girl will work for me.

If not, I’ll just quit.

It’s funny how life’s priorities can change with the seasons.

I ended up quitting that job and finding a social life. Three months later, I began my piercing apprenticeship. Priorities changed, and doors opened. I am still a workaholic, but I enjoy my work to a much greater extent.


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