Daughter Dearest wound up, on a Sunday afternoon of all things, being the only waitress at the lodge. The other one called in sick. She summed it up thus: “Real life sucks. Almost as much as the other kind.” There’s a kind of Zen-like quality to that statement.
’Course, the bright side was that she got all the tips for the afternoon & evening. Just the credit card tips came to $75, and her cash tips tend to match the credit tips, so if she made less than $140 on the night I would be surprised. We were joking yesterday that she would be able to afford a car before she got her real driver's license. If she has a few more nights like that, it won’t be a joke.