25: Just Call Me Cinderella

Monday, I had to work 4 pm to close.  It was just the shift manager and I, so two of us were covering both the inside and the outside of the winery.  It was never super busy even though we had a large group come in for a while, but the time went by fairly quickly, which was nice.

Working closing in a restaurant, as anyone will tell you, is both a blessing and a curse.  The nice thing is that you get your tips right away, and since there were only two of us working last night, I made a pretty hefty amount of money (Caitlin was right when she said working in a restaurant is better money than working in retail).  The not-so-nice part is having to perform all the closing duties like taking out the trash, wiping down tables, and mopping the floors.

Once the place started dying down, Karina and I got to work on closing duties.  Since she had to calculate the cash register drawer, I got assigned the job of mopping.  Though I kind of enjoy cleaning in general, mopping has never been one of my favorite janitorial tasks.

This reminded me of how often I got assigned to mop in stagecraft lab back at OCU.  For whatever reason, the scene shop teachers always seemed to give Sam and I the task of mopping, sweeping, and moving shit around.  I don’t know if it’s because we were good at it or if it’s because they wanted to keep us away from too difficult of building tasks.  Either way, I got sick of mopping that goddamn Kirkpatrick Stage and Blackbox Theatre.

As I mopped around the winery, occasionally sipping from my sangria slushie (Karina, a girl after my own heart, suggested we drink to increase productivity and lessen the boredom.  Hahaha), I thought of Sam and how he’d laugh seeing me actually put all those boring days of stagecraft janitorial work to use.  I thought about how I have a college degree (well, and so does Karina), and here I am, mopping a fucking restaurant floor instead of performing masterpieces of the theatre like Hedda Gabler or the Seagull.  I am a walking, talking, mopping theatre cliché: the actress who waits tables.  Or is it a waitress who acts occasionally?  I think this is one of those which-came-first-the-chicken-or-the-egg paradoxical questions.  I am Cinderfuckinrella (to quote Pretty Woman): cleaning up for people and dreaming of a Prince Charming, except my Prince Charming is actually a New York apartment with a stable theatre/film career.  I don’t need a glass slipper, just an agent, an Equity/SAG card, and a stream of good roles.  Okay, but maybe I’d also take a pair of Louboutins too.

So thank you, OCU scene shop, for at least teaching me how to mop a floor.  I’d prefer to get asked to use a jigsaw or attach something with bolts or base coat a flat with white latex paint, but I suppose mopping is more useful in the real world…and maybe if I was Cinderella.


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