The Gap Life Diaries | Rumplestiltskin
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Rumplestiltskin

One day, when I was about 6 years old, fed up with hearing “Mummy! Mummy! Mummy!” all day long, my mother told me she was going to change her name and not tell me what it was so that she didn’t have to respond to my constant pestering. I spent the rest of the day trying to guess which name she’d chosen because she was no longer responding to “Mummy”, and I ran around the house for several hours shouting all manner of ridiculous suggestions to see if she would answer to any of them. I went through all the names I could think of before, many hours later, she was sick of this too and revealed that her new name was… Rumplestiltskin.

I tell you this (slightly odd) tale because after working in the restaurant for a couple of weeks now, I’m considering a change of name myself. The lady in charge, who I’d incidentally now describe as more of a Miranda Priestly than a Cruella DeVil, seems to have changed her mind about me somewhat, as I think I’ve proved myself to be significantly less useless than she’d assumed I would be, especially if we forget about the couple of broken glasses and the few fairly major misinterpretations of orders made in Italian. However, the result of her new-found trust in me is that every time I’m working there, I am called upon roughly once every 12 seconds to do something for her, and “Eeeeeemmmmmmaaaaaa!” is wailed up the stairs loudly and at regular intervals until I trot down to her aid.

Now, it’s nice that she feels like she needs me there, really it is, but when I’m trying to take an order, or carry a mountain of plates, or remember what every dish is, contains, and looks like for a needy customer who refuses to just read the menu, hearing my own name screeched up at me does get a teeeensy bit annoying, especially when I get downstairs to discover the thing she wanted involves me running up and down the stairs yet another time.

Like with many things, it turns out that just maybe my mum had a point all those years ago. Hearing your own name five hundred times a day can get a tiny bit irritating, and there is only one solution.

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