Welcome to my other blog. I started this one shortly after graduating from the C.I.A, to differentiate between my food and my other thoughts. It's a cozy little place with frequent weird but real, honest thoughts.

There's really not much more to say here, as anything mildly interesting is either down below or written in my Armadillo section above.
Hope you can relate to some of my thoughts and situations, even if they tend to be strange sometimes

Monday, May 17, 2010

Part 7

If I hadn't been so afraid of losing points on my externship, or even worse starting from square one, I should have called the externship office at school to speak with them. I would urge students who suffer any sort of ill treatment at an externship site to seek help from the school, even though starting over may not be an option, speaking to them would be very helpful. At the time, I didn't know if they could help me, and was so frustrated with myself that I was struggling so badly with the most simple tasks, worried they would say the same things as my boss and not understand either.

    It turned out that the back of the bakery was an improvement, even if it was a small one. My hours were much earlier- midnight or 2 am, depending on the day. But I didn't mind, the back of the bakery were far nicer to me and treated me like a worker, as well as a student. They teased me in a way that made me feel like I was one of them, and were usually patient when teaching me what to do. I made thousands of dozens of bagels and donuts, bread dough, rolled croissants, made doughs and batters. That isn't to say I didn't have my bad days, but they weren't as unbearable as before.

    My hand limitations weren't as noticeable in the back of the bakery, as I worked mostly with doughs and batters, the only piping I had to do was filling cookies with jam or chocolate. I hated to venture any further than the back of the bakery and avoided Eric. I was terrified to run into him. Even though things were better, I was still exhausted. I would spend the majority of my time in my apartment reading, writing my externship manual or hoping to find  friends to talk to on-line.  My hours made it difficult to sleep more than a few hours. I would wake up in my early morning hours and have to find something to look forward to later on in the day to get myself out of bed, though the idea of not showing up to work was terrifying enough to get me moving in the morning.

    I was frustrated at my inability to tell my extern bosses what was really making me unable to ice cakes or pipe. I desperately tried to prove myself by staying after I clocked out several hours a week practicing my piping, hoping they'd see my attempts to learn.  When Norm, Eric's brother, made brutal comments on my piping I  tried again to explain my hand muscles, and again, it was dismissed. They didn't want to hear excuses, and I knew that, so I took their insults, anything to get them away from me.

Part Eight


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