I worked my second day at Kyteler's Inn. It's an easy job, and I like that a lot. There's no stress involved, and the people who work there have a good time at work. They're all a bit clannish, family-like and I don't mind that. They all have a joke and a gossip between them, as long as it keeps the stress out of the air, I don't mind. I'll go about my business.
I'm doing washup, also known as kitchen porter, the same as "dishwasher" in the States. I'm making 5 euro per hour.
I bought the International Herald Tribune at a shop on Kieran Street on the way home from work. Reading merrily through it in the cursory once-over that only works with newspapers, I came to page 7 and found it hopelessly smeared in manufacture. I decided to bring it back and ask if they had another copy to exchange. The woman said that it was the last one but that she'd give me my money back. She told me I could keep the paper.