I Really Hate My Job

[cars passing by]

[woman narrating]

What if good things

don't come to those who wait?

I mean, do you just

keep waiting or what?

God, everyone else

is going home.

Why do I have

to go to work?

How is it possible

to feel both isolated

and claustrophobic

at the same time?

Maybe that's my problem.

I think too much.

Christ, all these people.

They're probably

all thinking, too.

But what are they thinking?

Maybe my hopes

are too high.

What I need is not to need

and to live in the moment.

That's it.

I should live in the moment.

What on earth does that mean?

As if I could avoid

living in the moment.

I mean, I'm in it

whether I like it or not.

Breathe.

[exhales]

Breathe.

Okay, I'm fine. I'm fine.

Oh, God, I'm late.

Every day,

another day closer

to the day I'll never

have to do this again.

- Hi, Alice.

- Hey, Suzie.

- [door closes]

- [gasps]

Madonna, I'm sorry I'm late.

It's fine.

Suzie, could you

make me a coffee?

Sure. Cappuccino?

Yeah, thanks. Yeah.

[beeps, whirrs]

[woman]

Hang on.

- [baby yells]

- [woman]

There, there.

- Good girl.

- [coos]

- Sit nicely.

- Hi.

- [phone rings]

- [Madonna]

Hello. Stella Bar.

Uh, I'm sure

we can fit you in.

One moment.

I'm just going to my book.

Right.

Can I take your name?

Yes. Great.

Thanks.

- Thank you.

- See you tonight. Thanks.

- Bye-bye.

- Thanks. Bye-bye.

- See you again soon.

- [baby cries]

Hey, Alice.

- [camera shutter clicks]

- Smile.

I met a guy last night

who said he could smoke

with his eyes.

- How?

- I don't know.

- Didn't you ask him?

- No.

[laughs]

How could you not ask?

[laughing]

I don't know.

Uh, guys, I hate to nag,

but it's getting late.

Did you know it's a fact

that 70% of women

live their lives embroiled

in a miasma of disgust?

- A fact?

- Seventy percent.

Where did you get

this... fact?

The news.

And it wasn't a headline?

Nope.

What's a miasma?

It's sort of like, you know,

a cancer or a dry rot.

Women spend most of their time

in a dry rot of disgust?

[Alice laughing]

Oh.

How's your book going?

I finished it a week ago.

Alice, that's great.

- Congratulations.

- Well done.

What's it about again?

About a woman who runs away.

Where does she go?

To the sea.

What then?

She sits on a pier

and looks at the sky

for about 150 pages.

- [sighs]

- I'd like to read that.

- Thanks.

- I mean, I'd like to read it

if it was interesting.

[phone rings, beeps]

Hello. Stella Bar.

Your name?

Could you please

stop doing that?

Dave, you should be

here cooking. What?

- He hung up.

- Who?

Dave... barking.

- Barking mad?

- No, like a dog...

- Oh.

- drunk.

Right.

So, can Paolo cook tonight?

- Paolo resigned at lunch.

- What? Why?

- He burnt his arm.

- Is he okay?

He works in a kitchen,

and I'm sympathetic

to a point.

[sighs]

There's only 25 booked.

- What?

- Bonus?

For what?

But I've never

done it before.

Dave told me once he thought you

had real potential as a chef.

You're recommending the opinions

of a man who just barked at you?

He said that

before he barked.

I'm a kitchen hand.

Alice, we are

a family here.

Families pull together.

[whimpers]

[Alice narrating]

Families don't pay by the hour.

[Madonna thinking]

Please, please, please?

Sixty quid

and no more bookings.

Ugh.

- Rita can help you.

- Rita burns water.

[Madonna]

Maybe you should

get started now.

- Can I just finish my coffee?

- Of course, yes. I'm sorry.

[phone rings, beeps]

Hello. Stella Bar.

Greg. Hi.

There's been

a change of plan.

[clears throat]

Yeah. Um...

"Dear Alice..."

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