Just a Waitress (Daniel Ricciardo)

One

When I was growing up, cleaning is not what I wanted to do. I hated chores. Even when my mother tried to bribe me with rewards, I still wouldn't do them.

So how I ended up with cleaning as the job I do for a living, I will never know.

Wait...yes I do. I saw an advertisement for a job to do with Red Bull Racing on the internet and I jumped before I could ask how high the jump was. When I first arrived for the interview, it was only then I realised it was to work in the cafeteria and not the design area where my dream job is.

And here I am, six months later, working as a waitress and consequently a cleaner.

I moved out of my mum's house at twenty-two, two years ago now, and I still haven't learned to cook. How I wound up with this job was definitely down to my idiotic self.

However, on the plus side, I got to be the one that fed all these people who made this team the four-time world championship team that they are.

And I did need to be able to pay for my rent.

It was also great that I got free merchandise and a tour around the place.

Well, that wasn't really case. I mean, I needed to know where I was going and the 'merchandise' was my uniform.

They didn't ease me into it either, no one to 'show me the ropes' (not that it would be that difficult, serving food) or to explain scheduling to me (what time even was lunch? Twelve? Half twelve? One?).

But then again, how hard would it be to put food on a plate and serve with a smile?

Not that these people had the time to even notice whether I smiled at them or not, and they definitely didn't have the time to put a complaint in either. Let me tell you, these people ate their food quicker than they changed a set of tyres.

Track forward to the present day, I was still indifferent about this job. While it was still exciting to be in the middle (sort of) of the rush of pre-season, I was still a little disheartened.

You're probably thinking what the hell is wrong with me? You probably think I've met everyone, served Christian Horner his bacon baguette in the morning, plated up Daniil Kvyat's chicken or Daniel Ricciardo's pasta.

Well, the answer is no.

Don't ask me what they've been eating for the past six months since I have started this job because I don't know. But, to be fair, if I was as rich as any of the three of them, then I wouldn't eat here either. I'd be in the fanciest resturants around every day.

They probably think it tastes like school lunches, which fair enough. I'd be aphrensive as well if I had to start eating cafeteria food again after high school experiences. Trust me, they weren't that great.

This wasn't the only reason why I took the job, I did need a job and while when I found out that it wasn't anything to do with my dream job in design, it was still a job. And a way to get food on the table for myself and clothes on my back. And I was still in the factory, I could walk through the corridor and see everyone working their asses of to make this 2016 season a much, much better one than the previous year of 2015.

"Hello, how can I help you?" I gave the middle-aged man a smile as he approached the counter, stopping me from staring into space and thinking about the past half year of my life.

On the plus side of this job, I did find one of the most amazing person I had ever met, who I could call my best friend; Jenny.

We'd met on the day of the interview, both sat outside in the reception area, waiting to be called in, both shitting ourselves with nerves.