So I got laid off from my last job. And spent like 2 months doing nothing. Nothing in the sense that I spent more time with my beloved boyfriend and more time at home. So I applied for dozens of jobs. Probably like 3 dozen. And not all chef jobs. I applied for a few up north. And one down south.
A couple of rejection emails, a couple of failed phone calls, many unreplied to applications, an interview with no follow up call, a trial with no follow up call, and I get a rejection email from the hotel in the south. I think "crap" and move on, getting more and more depressed, having panic attacks, getting on the big downward spiral.
Then, a call. Irish accent, really hard to understand, but "I'm from the H Hotel". Uh, what? I got a rejection email? What's going on? "You meet all my criteria." Say what?
So a bit over a month speeds by, I'm spending as much time as possible with my fantastic boyfriend, spending like a grand on things I need to buy before I leave.
Saying goodbye to my boyfriend was hard. Very very hard. I know he hates me crying so I managed to stave it off until right before I got on the plane.
Driving out to the hotel, reality sets in about how far away it is, bring on loads of tears and panic.
I guess it's beautiful out here, but I've grown up with scenes like this and I just can't seem to appreciate views like this. Call me unappreciative.
My first week here I think I cried just about every day and I hated it. After working 7 days in a row I was fed up, hating everything, felt no hope, no inspiration, no need to stay but had nothing to go back home to. Got into such an extraordinary mood for me that I was throwing things and screaming, very unlike me. Had a bit of a slip with one of my knives while sharpening it and got calm again, went down to reception incase it needed stitches, it didn't.
Next day on my day off had my section head chef, the head chef, the HR guy, the operations manager and the general all come talk to me. And then when I got back to work everyone had heard.
There was a staff party I went to. I hung out with mostly the chefs, it was good getting talking to them. A few got pretty trashed, I had a few. One walked me back to my house and next thing I know there's rumours flying around. All untrue.
More days at work, it's getting monotonous already. I'm so sick of the pastry chefs already, I much prefer the company of the a la carte savoury chefs. One asked me to give him a massage because his back hurt. He and some others picked me up and I went and drank with them, stayed the night. Nothing happened but again more rumours.
I really miss home, and seeing my boyfriend. And my pretty bedroom. On the allergy note I need to stop picking at the chocolate cups and cookies because it isn't doing me well.
It's frustrating not having tv or internet in my room, so I spend most of my days off doing washing and watching tv on internet.
Might go have a drink, see if the guy with the same birthday needs help with his back again.
I don't know if I'll manage to stay the full 6 months, it seems an awful long time even though I'm only 2 weeks into it. But apparently they do loads of competitions and I'd love to do those again.
So much to think about.
And I'd really like to know where my boyfriend and I are going in our relationship. If, when I get back, we will just go back to spending a few nights at each others houses and having opposing days off and all that. Maybe if there was some sort of direction or if he showed some signs of wanting something even just a little more than a few nights a week together...
I don't know, time to head off for a lil drink, not a late one though, have a 9am shift tomorrow, ugh.
It's dark now, I can't see the mountains anymore. Time to go.