I am a scab. And

And a liar apparently.

And also, I really hate seafood.

What am I getting at, you say? Well........

I'll be bussing tables tomorrow at Oyster Bar in Grand Central Station in NYC. I completely and totally and utterly promised myself I would never work in a restaurant again. And now I'm bussing tables... and in a seafoody environment no less.

Now the upside is... Oyster is one of the most famous restaurants in NY... this is a primo job here. There's no reason I should be able to attain this job... but I'll get to WHY I attained it in a second. The money will be damn good. At least a hundred a day... and it better be, considering the train fare could cost as much as 25 dollars a day. And you know how much I love money...

But how did I get such a job? Well my dad worked it out with his restaurant friend from Gallagher's Steakhouse. So I'll be treated right by management, but then there's this tiny hitch... ALL OF THE RESTAURANT'S REGULAR EMPLOYEES ARE ON STRIKE. I'm tallking signs and everything... they are PICKETING. And thus, I am a scab. Being a scab is not cool. I will be yelled at by the employees on my way into work, for thwarting THEIR strike efforts. And also, if and when the strike is resolved, and all the normal employee base is back to work... they'll all always hate me!

YAY!

So I work tomorrow morning! Should be interesting! And I'm under no obligations at the moment... so I can decide not to come back after tomorrow and they won't be mad... but if I'm going to work... I want it to be steady... so unless it's absolutely horrible... or not enough money... I'll be asking for a permanent position.

What the hell else am I going to do with the black slacks, dress shoes and fancy white shirt I had to go out and purchase for the job? Yes, yes... this is a fancy place... I have to wear one of their coats as I bus as well. Cleaning oyster shells and crab parts off a table in a suit, can you think of any better line of work? I think not.

On the up side, I get to be some important looking commuter... taking the train into the city every day.

And on the flip side, I get to smell like a salmon's butthole for the ride back... thus scaring away any girlies attracted to important looking commuters.