So while I work at becoming a successful stage actress (and by successful, I mean one that can afford to pay rent by acting) I moonlight as a waitress. And since waitressing doesn't quite pay the aforementioned rent completely, I moonlight from the moonlighting as a cater-waiter. (For those not in the know, a server employed by a catering company to pass out canapes and try to not die of boredom as people in ill-fitting formal wear down booze by the bucket in an attempt to also not die of boredom.)
It's not a bad gig. The shifts usually go reasonably quickly, as there's always something to do. And it's the Christmas season, so there's lots of work to be had. Every company has to give it's employees the opportunity to wear inappropriate clothing and get drunk in front of their bosses at least once a year.
It's a good fit for me, this cater-waiting gig. I wander with my tray. Pleasant smile on my face. I exist but am invisible. I stroll about the room, I pick up empty glasses, I exist in my own universe, but get paid in the one we all share.
Tonight I'm off to another Christmas Party, while the Hubby does homework. He'll be asleep for hours by the time I come home. I'll crawl into bed with a live hot-water bottle snoring away beside me and warm my cold and tired toes on his warm and sleeping form, which will wake him up just long enough to give me my kiss goodnight.
And what more do I need than that.
