No, it's not what you think. This is no drinking sob story.
I've mentioned in previous posts that I work as a waitress. What I lack in precision and timely menu recall I make up for in good attitude and an ability to wait on difficult or downright odd customers.
For the past month, I've known that I would be tested on ten new cocktails that debuted this past week. I put off studying for it until almost the last possible moment. Why, because I hate studying for things that don't inherently interest me. In fact, I have a hard time even doing the latter. I get paralyzingly bored.
In a nutshell this test was my nightmare. Servers were told that if they didn't pass the test they wouldn't be put on the schedule until they did, which strikes me as very third world, but that's for another essay.
I studied for about two hours - writing out the recipes, glasses, garnishes and mixers. I spoke the recipes out loud, I drew pictures and made stories that ideally could help me with recall. That helped some but not enough. I didn't pass the first go-round. I called my mother in tears yesterday and asked her to come over to help me work through these drinks. Being the awesome Mom she is, she came over and spent about two and a half hours with me. I felt both overwhelmed by this dumb test and angry that my ability to pay rent came down to a test that was proving extremely difficult to pass.
I took the test yesterday and was added to the schedule. I don't know what my score was nor do I really care.
It's moments like these that can derail anyone with a processing disorder. You know you're smart. I know I'm smart but I don't trust trust my brain often enough to present the information to me when I need it most.
So that's where I am.
Music festival planning bumps and starts and rolls along. More on that next week.
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