By the way, that was originally going to be the title of a book I planned to write. It would be about this girl who held all these part-time jobs, one of them as a waitress, and one as a fitting room assistant.
Which is quite possibly the most useless and boring job on the face of the planet.
But I digress.
So, I was as a waitress at a restaurant called Ruby Tuesday. Tonight I was supposed to close the restaurant (which I didn't want to, because it would mean being there until probably about one in the morning and it's a twenty-minute drive away, plus I was working in the morning). I was hoping to be cut early (by the way, "cut" refers to being allowed to leave, not getting fired - a mistake I made the first time I waitressed and they said "You're cut." I thought I was fired and got all upset until I realized that it just meant I could clean my section and go home).
I was trying to fix one of my tables - they're the kind that have ends that fold down to make it smaller, or they fold up to make it bigger, except when I was pulling up one of the edges my finger was too close to the edge and I ended up snapping up the table leaf right on my finger.
Needless to say, it hurt quite a bit. I thought it would just be a small bruise, though. Then I looked at it and it started bleeding, so I went to find my boss and was like, "Uh, Terrie?" and she's like "What?" and I said "UH TERRIE?" and she goes "WHAT, MANDY?" and she looks over and I'm holding my finger in my hand to keep the blood from dripping onto the floor and then of course, I have to state the obvious and say "I need a bandaid."
So she took me back to the office to get one, and the conversation that followed went something like this:
Me: "I need a bandaid."
Terrie: /proceeds to pull out this bottle of hydrogen peroxide/
Me: "WHAT NO THAT WILL STING LIKE ALL HECK."
Terrie: "Whattt, no it won't."
Me: "Terrie, do you remember the last time you told me it wouldn't work, a few months ago, when I dropped a glass and cut my hand and you had this stuff to put on it, and you were like 'Oh, it won't hurt' and then you put it on and it STUNG LIKE ALL HECK?"
Terrie: "Well, I lied." /THEN PROCEEDS TO POUR ONTO FINGER/
Me: "/INSERT WORDLESS SCREECH HERE/"
Terrie: "Well?"
Me: ".....okay, it didn't hurt."
Terrie: "I told you so. Does it hurt?"
Me: "No...yes."
Terrie: "Well, it's a good thing you're already cut, so I don't have to send you home.
Terrie and Mandy: "......."
Terrie: "HAHA CUT."
Mandy: /insert melodramatic sigh here/
This all resulted with Mandy being the proud owner of a neon-purple bandaid on her finger. Considering how strict our dress code is when it comes to our uniforms, I was amused by the fact that all they had were horrendously bright, fluorescent colored bandaids.
At any rate, my finger is completely fine, except for the inch long gash in it.
