Transplanted Life
Friday, June 04, 2004
So I hate being a waitress
It's not just the being on my feet all night, or working for tips I don't like. Though, honestly, the tips thing is worse than the physical part. It makes me feel like some kind of scavenger. The rest is annoying, but it's a subtle kind of humiliation to basically be picking up the extra leavings of what people who have real jobs, where they produce something or do something of value. It's kind of funny to see the guys who come in without wives/girlfriends leaving me a larger tip than the others. Okay, I've got a nice body and might be considered cute, but sometimes I look at the tip and remember how the people at the table looked at me and I wonder if they were trying to make a good impression, as if we'll meet up outside the restaurant and I'll remember, hey, you were a good tipper and I'd love to go out with and/or sleep with such a kind, generous man.

What gets me is that even if I didn't think of myself as being thirty, I'd still be among the oldest people on the waitstaff at 25. That's okay, it's supposed to be a transitory job - heck, the people running on the place count on it, so they don't have to give raises - but it's a reminder that my life is on hold. Well, not on hold, but out of my control, and behind where it should be.

It's paying the bills, though, so I guess I should be grateful for that while I look for something better. I feel a little bad about not stopping my job search now that I've got a job, since even if a chain place like I'm working at expects a lot of churn from its staff, I never liked feeling like I've wasted someone's time. They went through the effort to hire me and say that there was no longer a vacancy, so even if I know they've got a box of applications, I don't want to put them out. It's a stupid, oversentimental outlook, but I can't shake it sometimes.

Carter's got no such problems. As much as spending twenty minutes watching a supermarket training video galls him, he knows we need the money, so he's going to do it.

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Note: This blog is a work of fantasy; all characters are either ficticious or used ficticiously. The author may be contacted at