Over the years, I have tried to work in different fields, spent boring hours doing admin work, weathered months in cubicle hell, and created artwork in too many mediums. The truth of the matter is I like the restaurant business. It's fast-paced and profitable. The hours fly by as I meet and entertain a variety of people, serve yummy food and drinks, and listen to dance-inspiring tunage, some of it live. Running around for long periods of time forces fitness into my loathe-to-exercise form; joking around with customers and coworkers provides needed social interaction without the costs of entertainment. It's still work, mighty hard work at times; but, in the grand scheme of things, pretty darned fun.
My new place of employment is an Irish Pub, my favorite watering hole with Guinness on tap and fish and chips and potato leek soup at the ready. I've been frequenting O'Donoghue's for the three years it has been open and have applied there three times now. The third time was the charm, as predicted by the superstitious sphere, and I am thrilled to be there.
In contrast to the staid golf club that was my last employer, where I had Evil Mr Monk as my direct supervisor, the atmosphere at the pub is easy-going and empowering. My pony-tailed laid back boss told me to take ownership of my tables, which translates to "make your own decisions and don't come to me for every nitpicking thing". He is the polar opposite of Evil Mr Monk who used his Napoleon-like wingspan to make sure each table was equidistant from the next, who hovered over me as I worked, and who repeated instructions often five times before each special event. Honestly, I don't know how I worked for him as long as I did. Oh, yes, the quest for filthy lucre.
The golf club provided a restrictive and staid working environment that I am glad to be free of. I just wish I had realized this sooner but sometimes this hard head of mine takes some drumming to learn its lessons.
By the way, in addition to fun and money, I get a special treat at the end of each day, a pint of that cascading goodness that is Guinness on tap. Life is good. 
An Addendum: When my brother-in-law, whose wife Linda is a confirmed shoe addict, learned where I was working, he exclaimed, "Lauren working in an Irish pub? That's like Linda getting a job in a shoe store. You may as well just sign your checks over to the place now."
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