If At First You Don't Succeed, Drop Lemon Juice.

Oh boy, oh boy.
Yesterday was the first day of my internship at Greens Restaurant here in San Francisco. Thinking back on all the events, I have come to the terms that it was nothing less than the perfect first day; I managed to showcase every single quirk in my personality.
Having arrived in the BART station at 4:30 in the morning, I was planning on going in at the same time as Adam and bide time doing homework at Starbucks (it's on the way to my bus stop). We parked, walked in and tried to find how to pay for the day's parking. I opened my wallet: $2. How am I supposed to buy myself a seat for 3 hours at Starbucks with only $2? I can't even get a latte with that, nonetheless pay for parking.
As Adam searched for an ATM, I tried to remember what our parking spot number was. For lack of an ATM and a sufficient memory, I gave up and drove the 20 minutes back up to my aunt's house for my secret stash of money.
Long story short, I arrived in the city without time for homework, but too much time to just head to work. I tried to buy time by buying a latte, which, as pleasing as it was, mildly failed. By the time the bus pulled up to Van Ness and North Point (my stop) the time was 7:25. the schedule read that I started work at 9; quite the dilemma. Biding time again by taking pictures and trying to call people, I finally gave up at walked in early to work.
Now Astred, you're fine. Stop shaking. Listen, be mindful and memorize what's going on.
I peaked into the kitchen, and finally found somebody to blurt my name to. "Oh, okay," was the reply given as they led me upstairs. I received a tour, introductions and then it was time; put on your coat and work.
Being placed under the control of the Chef, I was assigned to cut citrus fruits and avocado. I ran up to the dry storage to find the fruit, only... where's the grapefruit he asked for? Looking, looking, looking, gone? Finally spotting grapefruit, I grabbed it and went back downstairs. It was the wrong kind, and yes, they did have the right kind. In fact, there were two cases of the right kind.
I huffed and puffed and cut those fruits, only to cut myself instead of the avocado. By this point in time, all I could do was beat myself for being so nervous and messing up. Now, I had not literally messed anything up, so the universe decided I needed just cause in telling myself that; I dropped/spilled nearly 20 ounces of freshly squeezed lemon juice.
BREAK. I walked upstairs, contemplated retreating to the bathroom, but instead got food and sat down. I tried to relax, but could not. I needed to keep myself busy if I wanted to keep sane.
For those who do not know what "the line" is, every kitchen has a flow. The orders come in, you make them and pass them down this imaginary line until finally the table should be taken care of. The line is intense, the line is fast, and now I was in it. Not knowing how their ordering system worked, or what fully to do, I stumbled, stood around and somehow worked my butt off in an attempt to stay afloat.
By the time food was no longer being served, I helped clean, prep and then was sent back upstairs for scheduling. I was released early, and celebrated (calmed myself down) by stopping at Ghirardelli Square for their famous ice cream.
Now I am getting ready to head in for another day at work, so here's where I part. Wishing myself luck and a little less humor for those around watching me. Ciao!