Little things, big problems

You know what they say about the little things? Yeah, they're important alright.

This time I've been by myself at home I got to think about the little things and how annoyed a person can be when they miss them. How should I start this? Well, let me talk about working.
I'm feeling kinda stuck, you know? I don't know about the rest of you guys, but I really hate when I'm not 100% sure about what I'm doing or what I have to do or what I'm supposed to do or what other people expect me to do or what I expect other people to do. Should I do this? Should I leave it to another person to do? This might be the easiest job in the world, you know, being a waitress or helping out in a kitchen, but the little things are there. Each pub or restaurant has some particularities that are theirs and when you do something wrong this might piss somebody off, which isn't good at all. I'd never done this before and suddenly I'm in a place that people expect me to know how to do everything. It's a lot of information and sometimes I forget where I should put something or which specific food is in a dish. Last Sunday, for instance, there was this guy asking which vegetables we served in the salad. It's a salad for crying out loud, what do you expect to see, you motherfucker? And then he kept telling me that the table was dirty and I didn't know that it was my job to clean it. Don't I work for the kitchen? I thought people at the bar were responsible for that, but I went there, got a piece of cloth and cleaned it. Then my boss asked why I was talking to the pub staff about cleaning a table. I was just asking for a piece of cloth! I don't know where the fuck they put pieces of cloth! He should've told me from day one that cleaning tables was part of the job. Why making such a big deal out of it anyway? From that moment on I learned that cleaning tables was part of the job, so I went there, collected glasses, cleaned tables, changed ashtrays... No problem, dude. Just don't assume things, tell me and I'll do it.
And the accent is something that still makes me nervous. Not understanding what they say makes me panic. There was this table with three people, two old guys and an old woman, they're regulars at the bar. One of the guys kept telling me something and there wasn't a way of me understanding... Learn how to fucking pronounce the words, man! Where are you from, anyway? Leprechaun Land or something? You sure look like one!
And another thing is appreciation. You know, a 'hi' or 'thank you' really counts, especially in this country that everything is about politeness. I come from Brazil, where nobody respects anybody. The first thing I was told about this place is everything is 'yes, please' 'no, thanks' 'excuse me' 'I'm sorry'. I think I've already mentioned the owner of the pub, Simon. Man, I'm a fucking ghost to this guy! I'm collecting his fucking glasses and cleaning his fucking tables and not even a 'hey' when I arrive at the bar! I gave him his food that Grant had prepared and he didn't even look at me! Not even a 'thanks'! That pissed me off big time!

Let me tell you about the supermarket.
I really care about the things I buy and I'm used to the things I used to buy in Brazil. For example, deodorant. I'm very picky when it comes to personal hygiene, and there's only one deodorant I use and, of course, I'm running out of it. I went to the supermarket this afternoon and couldn't find one that even gets close to the brand I use. I must have smelled 20 different deodorants and finally picked one (I had to!). When I got home and tried it on, the smell was totally different from the supermarket and I felt I was stinking! Man, I can't stink!
And everything has to be organic (meat, fruit, vegetables...) because of mad-cow desease and organic things are healthier and stuff, but it's more expensive. Bread is different, cheese is different... it takes to time to get used to those things.

Transportation.
Man, it smells really bad here... Buses, tube... Imagine rush our in Brazil (Porto Alegre), coming from downtown to North Zone, inside Jari-Safira. Or those 'Linha Rapida' to Restinga, packed like sardines, summertime, 32 degrees. Are you picturing it? Can you smell it? Well, here it's 10 times worse. I think I was just used to the AC inside 77 or T5 and the shock was horrible!
On the old buses (called Routmasters) there are guys to check if you have a pass or not, but each one of them has their own way to do it. Some use the eletronic device to check, others just look at your travel card, others don't... And these buses don't have doors, so once they stop you can climb on or get off at any time and people usually bump into into each other and it's all very confusing.
And I still don't know the stops. Wherever I go (apart from Oxford Circus) I have to spend like an hour in front of the computer figuring out how to get to the damn place.

I don't know, you guys. I think the fact of being by myself here and still not having friends to hang out with is driving me crazy.
Of course I don't regret anything. The little things are important to me but it won't change my opinion about the city. Yes, it's beautiful. Yes, it's different. Yes, it's cosmopolitan. Yes, it's a once-in-a-lifetime experience. I just don't like feeling helpless, being alone, not having people to share the things I've done or seen. At the same time it's early for any conclusions, I'm having the idea of "ok, you're here, you're on your own, do your thing, make your way to the top right now". But I'm not like that...

Maybe I'm being paranoid. I'm certainly not in a good day. Maybe because tomorrow I'll work in my dreamjob dealing with leprechauns.
My class starts on Monday. Thank God!!!!!