I want that job

You know, my mom and I spent the weekend in Paris.  Walking and drinking wine and eating and more walking.  No schedules or children.  Just whatever we felt like doing. 

And speaking of.

Sunday evening, dinner time.  7th arrondissement.  I dare you to try to find a restaurant that's open.  

Anyway, we ended up in a perfectly acceptable brasserie.  Tomato and mozzarella salad to begin with, warm goat cheese and cured ham salad, pear tart for dessert.  Médoc to drink.  

Anyway, still not the important part.  That part was the guy, the owner of the brasserie.  I'm not kidding, the man stood, kind of hunched, over the cash register the whole time we were there.  We, of course, had an apéritif to start with, before the food and the wine.  And coffee after the dessert.  So we'll say we spent a couple of hours there.  

He hunched over the cash. Took people's money.  Barked out orders.  Delegated in the true sense of the word.  He did absolutely nothing, other than the money thing, himself.

50 cl of Médoc to table 10!

Table 6 looks ready for a dessert!

Money's out on table 14!

In the meantime, there was definite hustle and bustle because it was the only damn restaurant open in the 7th on Sunday evening.  So the staff hustled and bustled while Monsieur oversaw.  

Counting the hours

I got an offer for a huge promotion at one of my jobs this week. HUGE. It's a management position, I'd be in charge of all the teachers and administative nightmares. It's a full-time real job thingy.

I came home and told Husband about it. We both sighed. Because it would be great. He knows how much I'd like to things other than teach all the time. And of course the extra cash would be very welcome. And of course we both know I can't accept it. So we sighed again.

We said, in chorus, "On ne peut pas être deux à ne pas compter les heures."

Indeed. Both of us can't not count the hours. Of work. Not with kids. I know some people do but it's just not our thing. When he was a student, Husband worked in the day camps where kids go here when no one is home. And he doesn't want our kids there. And neither do I.

I see the kids who spend 10-11 hours a day at school. I see the little ones cry when it's Mama time at 4:30 and they've got two more hours to go before their Mama time. And when we invite one of the bigger ones over for lunch during the week, they're so grateful it makes my teeth hurt.

A friend who works in Human Resources at my other job suggested I ask for the sky, just for the heck of it. Which I'm planning on doing. 2 months off in the summer without pay (what's not to like there?), 50% of all other school vacations off (with pay) and the possibility of working from home for the other 50%.

I did try to milk the whole situation, mentioning to my other manager that I had been offered a big deal promotion. Scare her a little. Let her know I'm big promotion material.

What? I am. I'm just big promotion material on a school year schedule.

Oh yeah. Did I mention I need to finish everyday at 4:15 so I can pick the boys up from school?

I know, I know, they'd be lucky to have me.