My Night of Boredom

When I get home from work, the first thing my flatmate always asks me is "Busy night?"

However, the reply is fairly ambiguous.

"Yeah, busy" - Can mean I was rushed off my feet, and I'm knackered. All I want to do is collapse in a heap and get a large drink inside me. It can also mean, I had a constant stream of people, and didn't have long dull periods where I got bored.

"Nope, quiet night" - Can mean it was a nice, hassle free night. I was able to give good service to the few guests I had, and didn't have to rush and stress myself. However, it can mean I did nothing for a large amount of the time, and gently felt my mind turn into mush as it moved through the various stages of boredom.

On one occasion, I came in and replied "Dead."

"What, really quiet?"

"No, DEAD. Absolutely D E A D."

I then went on to explain that an hour into my shift, I served my last guest. I was then stuck on bar for another 6 hours without another guest coming up to the bar. At first it was nice, then it was just dull. Really, really dull.

I became a waiter in the restaurant for an hour or so, just so I'd have something to do.
I then became a porter at reception, taking guests' luggage up to their rooms.
I then became a maintenance man, explaining to guests how to work their showers and attempting to repair towel rails.

I then came back onto bar, and made a small display stand out of corks and toothpicks.
I then used this to display a cork.
I then stacked coasters into a small hut, before taking apart one of the coasters and gently turning it into a helix, which I hung from a coat hook.
I then explored one of the cupboards under the bar and discovered an induction to health and safety for the hotel, caked in dust, written in the 70s, and not actually belonging to our hotel chain.
I then researched the manual and found that the hotel chain that distributed it owned the hotel 4/5 owners back.
I then decided to write a short story, about a small sausage who lived in an igloo with his best friend, a slice of streaky bacon, who was also his dad (by the time my night ended, this short story spanned 8 order sheets. When my flatmate was presented with it to read, which took 5 minutes, I was informed that it was mostly gibberish, interspersed with minor insanity).

Having read my short story, I was handed a large drink, and put to bed. It's strange what the mind will do when allowed to roam free...