This year has been an emotional rollercoaster. That’s just an understatement. In January, I was in a comfortable place. Single, finally coping with my emotional trauma, and living it up with my friends in our rented college house. I was managing my school work with two theses and having two jobs: writing services on campus and a bartending job back home. My weekend job was amazing. I worked at an Elks Lodge and switched between bartending friendly and witty regulars and doing banquet waitressing with one of the most amazing staff. We were tight knit friends at my job. And then March hit.
My job closed down and I went on unemployment. My mental health teetered between the stress, cabin fever, burn out, and my depression was creeping back into my life. I felt myself beginning to isolate, even when living with my friends. I would go home more to be in the safety of my childhood bedroom rather than back at school.
When June came back around, my job was a mess. There was a whole bunch of petty, unnecessary hearings in the Elks hierarchy that eventually forced out my boss from his position. Hours were cut, banquets were eradicated, and life there just was not the same. By July we had a total of five shifts each week. I voluntarily gave my mom, who had worked there for 25 years, my hours and went back to unemployment.
One thing about me is that I get restless. In August, I had my social life back together. I rekindled my friendship with my old friends from high school and fell in love with one of them , Andrew. It was a shining moment in my life because I always knew that I loved him, even when we weren’t talking for four years and I was seeing other people. Cue the Hallmark movie trailer.
Even with my social life back on track, I needed something more. I loved the lazy, laid-back summer hangs we had outside in the pool, masking it up for backyard stories around the fire, and even playing in our group’s Minecraft server. But the stress of living was ever-present. I needed to feel like I was doing something with my life.
At the same time, I restarted my writing services job virtually, embarked on an amazing internship with Cul+ure Collective in Asbury Park, and also took a new serving job in a town a half an hour away. Unfortunately, this was all too much.
From September to October, I manage to juggle my social life, school work, and jobs. By October, I was starting to feel that burn out again. I got severely depressed for two weeks and it didn’t help that the service industry is at its lowest now. I don’t blame them. This is a pandemic and even though I wanted customers, I was still bewildered at the idea that people could come out to eat. I personally chose to order takeout and keep safe at my home.
By the end of October, I was already thinking about quitting. The money wasn’t right and the commute to the restaurant was not ideal especially when I would leave at 12 or 1 am sometimes. The straw that broke the camel’s back was holiday scheduling.
We were not allowed to take off for holidays. In a normal time, this would make perfect sense. Holiday is one of the busiest seasons in the service industry. Something that wasn’t sitting with me right was that we are still in a pandemic, with limit seating, and quite honestly, this was shown with the number of customers coming in. I remember looking in the request off book and seeing a big X on holidays saying that no one can request off for Thanksgiving, Christmas Eve, and even New Years. I couldn’t help but think of my 96-year-old grandmother whose health was deteriorating these past months. I lost my aunt last year and Thanksgiving was the last holiday I saw her. I couldn’t miss these holidays and miss these just being there for these potentially last months with my grandmother for a job that just isn’t working for me.
So, I quit.
It’s hard for me to quit anything. Even my job of four years I’ve been doing a few shifts here and there recently to help out. When I tell myself to do something, I try my best to keep doing it even if it kills me. But this time, it was different. Andrew and my friends were all telling me that it’s okay to quit jobs, especially if I was feeling this way. I guess I needed that push.
In the end, it was an amalgamation of things going into my decision, but I guess its funnier to say I quit because of Thanksgiving. My grandmother was checked into the hospital early last week and was transferred to a rehab center to help with her heart leg muscles. Gov. Murphy set up stricter laws in New Jersey, which I personally am okay with. The cases are growing and honestly, even if there weren’t these restrictions, I wouldn’t want to put my grandmother in that position. My father works in a prison and both my mother and I are bartenders. Thankfully, we haven’t tested positive, but it isn’t worth it to risk it. This year’s looking more like phone calls and loads of left overs. But it has to be to keep us all safe.