The day before, I had been sent home because my standing around doing nothing pulse wouldn't drop below 100 bpm for over an hour, so today I was apprehensive about getting back on the floor but decided to throw myself in.
I stand in pre-shift only because the available chairs are too deep in the tiny room overflowing with people to secure. Just standing, with my glass of water. I normally chase the calories in Sierra Mist, but I heard dehydration may have caused my heart rate yesterday. Just standing, like a normal person, holding a cup of water, like a normal person, when it fell from my grasp and shattered on the floor. Everyone looked from the mess on the floor to me. "I'm pregnant!" (Man, it's good that's not under-wraps anymore.) And the room reanimated, people laughing at my pronouncement, people rushing to get brooms, people nudging pieces of glass to a localized location. And we proceeded with my husband's mantra: sweep it up and throw it away.
Throughout the 8 hours I was on the clock, the new pregnancy klutziness did not abate. I uprighted at least three trays, most of which were caught with no damages, but one. That one involved me dumping 7 cups of water on myself and breaking a glass into the ice. That's right. Broken glass in the ice is always a bad day.
Finally this awesome day (I left with $175. It was a pretty good day!) ended. I had finished doing the condiments for Jacob and my sections while he swept. (Bending forces the belt I have to wear because my pants don't close anymore painfully into my son.) My manager came over to check our sections. That's when I saw it. "Oh, no! Someone stole my cracker caddy!" I said staring at the poorly filled cracker caddy left on my table, "I'm going to cry," I jested in exaggeration. That's when my hormones betrayed me. My face turns red, my eyes fill with tears. "No! no! Do not cry! This is not worth crying over!" My manager is looking at me in horror and reaches out to comfort me. "No! Do not touch! It will make it worse!"
"Are you seriously-"
"I'm pregnant! I have hormones! They are acting up! I am fine!"
From beside us, Jacob speaks up, "She's fine. Can you finish checking my section?"
Our manager looks in horror from his cavalier face to my face contorted in a battle dominance: brain vs hormones.
It took a bit more effort to convince him and get on with checking our sections, but I think in the long run it was all worth it. From now on, whenever our good friend gives me a hard time, I can warn him, "Don't make me cry! You know I will!"
It was a good day.
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