Life. What a crazy/funny/awesome thing it is.
I'm not going to go into any detail, but my life has sure thrown me a lot of lemons lately. And i ain't so good at making lemonade. I've found myself at the end of a lot of sleepless nights, often times under the influence of my little 12 oz aluminum comrades, wondering why these things always seem to happen to me. But there's always that one thing that remains: I have to work in the morning.
I often wake up to look in the mirror and think to myself "kid, you should have called it a night after the first few or before your mind took over and left you stranded." I then shake my head, doll myself up (to what little extent i actually do that), throw my uniform on, and hope to make it there in time to get my day started. Those of you who work with me know i have been pretty shitty at that lately too, which i am now willingly apologizing for and am vowing that those days are over.
I typically walk in and go straight for the coffee machine, hoping that with enough hope, wishes (and eventually cream and sugar) that i can make that muddy excuse for "coffee" taste somewhat like...coffee. I run around trying to tie up all the loose ends i need to in order to get things ready for the lunch crowd, and then i patiently await my first table to saunter in the door.
We all know that we are here to entertain: we are casual dining jesters - singing, dancing and serving all these so called kings and queens for thirty minutes at a time until they've had their fill and are ready to go back out into the world.
One of the worst things about this job is the "act" that i have to put on every day. I'm generally pretty good at just being myself. I joke, i laugh, i smile, and all because that's how i generally am. I am a happy-go-lucky, shit-eating-grin-wearing lady who doesn't have "boo" to say about anything.
Not lately.
"Oh, you're in a hurry? Chick-Fil-A's right there."
"You're food's cold? Yeah, it sat around for a good ten minutes before anyone decided to bring it out here."
"Are we short staffed? No, it's just that assholes like you and everyone else are making my job ten times harder than it needs to be."
"Am i stupid? Lady, i bet i have more education in my pinky finger than you have in your entire family line."
"You have a wheat allergy and can't have ANYTHING touching wheat related items? Hey (insert cooks name here), two buns on that burger please."
"Your service was horrible? Go fuck yourself."
What these people don't know is that they're just fueling the fire inside of me. They're making my mood even worse and making my mind float even further into oblivion, leaving their demanding and ridiculous needs by the wayside. Of course i slap on my big fake grin, belt out my dumb fake laugh (which my coworkers love oh-so-much), and apologize for each and every unimportant mistake i make. I take my mediocre tip, thank them "SO MUCH", and tell them to have a good day.
The second the coast is clear, i stand at the computer and mutter every explicative in the book, mock their tone, condemn them to Hell, and move on to the next ill prepared guest.
And they NEVER know. How, i shall never be able to guess, they just don't.
I've been doing this for so long that i guess i actually wear it well. I can change at the drop of a hat (or a ten percent tip) when i have to. I do what i need to do to make money, to pay my bills so i can live a life outside of the world of burgers and beer (well, maybe not beer, but you get the gist.)
We all do this. It's probably what (most of us) do best.
When i enter that building each morning, the baggage gets left at the back door until i clock out and make my exit back into "my" life.
Work has recently become an escape for me: a place where everything else taking place in my life doesn't matter, where it CAN'T matter. A place where i have to suck it up and do what i should actually be doing in my REAL life....
carrying on.
*i would like to note that one thing i have never done and WILL NEVER DO is fuck with people's food. (Just in case anyone was worried.)
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