You may not know this, but my last semester of college, I worked at a coffeeshop. They opened up February of this year and they were desparate for help. Which, in all honesty, is why I got hired. I knew nothing about coffee. I couldn't even really make coffee, and Lord knows I don't drink the stuff. Plus, I was still in a walking cast from my last surgery, so it's not like I was even quick on my feet. But regardless of all that, they still hired me. I'm not even sure they checked my references first. Or ever.
Though it probably slowed my recovery time down and caused the bout of tendonitis I got in my ankle, I really enjoyed my job. My boss loved me and trusted me with a lot of responsibilties early on. The last day I clocked out on the computer, the main menu was hidden and the worksheet was up. I was listed under management along with my boss, while everyone else was listed under another category. Not that it really meant anything, cause we all got paid the same, but it still made me feel good. And made me wish I'd asked for a raise...but that's just being greedy.
Probably the most bizarre thing about my stint as a coffee barista is the simple fact that I never drank anything I made...even the "regular" coffee. I could make these wonderful lattes with foam you could stand a spoon in (which, btw, is the actual test for foam...how dense it is and whether or not a spoon could be propped up in it. Who knows where they came up with that one). People still tell me that things don't taste the same now that I am gone. But I never even tasted a single Turtle Mocha. I loved the fruit smoothie things, but beyond a sip of a Chai Latte the day I was trained, I didn't touch a drop of the stuff. I have no idea why my drinks tasted better than most, when I followed the same drink recipe as everyone else.
Walking (or really...limping) into a job like that was kind of scary. I knew nothing about what I was being hired to do and I wasn't sure if I could do it. Thankfully, everything worked out beautifully and it was a great experience for me and for the coffeeshop
Tomorrow evening, I will be walking (and, hopefully, not limping) into a new job. It's one that has elements of the very familiar and comfortable in a setting that is totally new and maybe even a little scary. I've done this job before, and I have succeeded. But, I've never done this job in another country and it has me a little on edge. I know they aren't going to expect me to step off the plane spouting schedules and programming, but I still feel this pressure to impress and assure them that they made the right decision in hiring me.
I'm flying out of Nashville tomorrow, with a slight layover at IAH, and then landing in Guatemala City by about 8PM their time...which I think is our Mountain Time Zone. I can't believe I am sitting here writing that and it's completely true. No embellishing or taking liberties with the truth. It's really going to happen.
This week has sucked. I've been stressed out on levels that make me want to throw up. Every second of every day. It's been worse than the lime episode.
Well, maybe that's being melodramatic. Cause let's face it...it would take a whole lot of stress to top that particular experience.
I have had a nightmare every single night this week. I woke up twice this week crying and in a cold sweat. I have always had very detailed dreams with usually weird twists and situations, but I can't remember the last time I dreamed such morbidly scary dreams.
I went to see my friend who has the sick baby for a couple of days at the beginning of the week. Most of the nightmares have centered around her, usually with her dying. I'm sure that they come from the situation she is in with her son, and all the grief and pain I feel about that. Plus, I love this woman pretty fiercely, and having her in pain is not something I'm handling great. I tried to put on a brave face and not make her burden any heavy by sharing my load. But I think that is why the nightmares started. I'm hoping they go away soon, because it sure makes for an exhausting night.
I've also been stressed about packing and tying up all the loose ends that have been floating around since I came home. That stress will get instantly better the moment I hand over my over-the-weight-limit baggage to the airline and can just stop trying to remember if I did everything. I'm counting the hours until I get that release. For now, though, I'm stuck with the rock at the bottom of my stomach, and a suitcase that is too full and a pile of things that I have to decide whether or not they make the cut.
The decisions will be made soon enough, the night will pass, hopefully without another crazy dream, and tomorrow will be here before I know it. And tomorrow is it. It's the day I've been waiting and working towards since April when that email slipped into my inbox and changed my life. I don't know when I'll be able to update, but I'll write when I can. So until then...take care and please pray that I have the courage to step off that plane and follow this path that has appeared before me.