Tomorrow I’m going to work for a catering company. I don’t want to. Not because I don’t like to work, nor because I don’t like to earn money. I don’t want to because I just heard that we should come there with no makeup on – because we’re going to get styled from stylists. Now that means it’s going to be chicky-micky and oh, how much I hate that. Not only do I dislike to dress uncomfortable and nice and wear makeup, but I really much dislike some people that think they are all chicky-micky.
And oh I’m scared. Scared because I have to be nice and smile – all the time. I just pray that they are going to be nice people, who I’ll serve the sparkling wine. I’m nervous. I’m not a chicky-micky girl. I had to go to my sister’s yesterday to get some black pants, because I don’t have any (here in Munich – I do have some, they are by my parents).
My sister asked me last week if I wanted to work on monday because a person got sick or something and I said yes. Of course – it’s good money.
Oh well, it’s only (hopefully) four hours, I’m good with people (usually) and I’m nice (usually). I hope I can control myself. That’s making me think – why do I assume that there are going to be arrogant assholes there tomorrow? Why do I assume there are rich people there tomorrow? Why do I assume there are “would-like-to-be” people there tomorrow?
Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe it’s going to be fun and not that bad at all. We’ll see…