The Diary of Queen Mothy |
When Personalities Clash written @ 5:11 PM on July 02, 2002 I hate work. And you want to know why? It's the people. Those goddamned waitresses-- prima donnas, every single last one of them. I nearly had a nervous breakdown the other day because they were driving me absolutely crazy. My enemies at large? Amy, the older waitress, about 50-60 years old, has been waitressing at this Bob Evans for approximately 13 years. Karen, late 30s, early 40s, blonde poofy hair and snapping gum that makes you really think of those over-caffeinated morning diner waitresses you see in the movies. Jackie, approximately 22 years old, seems like an alcoholic and a hoe, really bitchy. Likes to roll her eyes at me when she thinks I'm not paying attention and thinks I was not born with eyes in the back of my head. Let's begin with Amy, shall we? All the customers simply looooove Amy. When they come in, they request Amy's section. When they come up to pay, they tell me, "Couldja tell the man'ger that Amy wuz by far da best waitress we've ever had?" My problem with Amy? She's a bitter, fake bitch! The other day there was another hostess working with me, Princess Julie from the Country of Whiner, and she was seating while I was working the register. Then we decided to change up. "Julie, where did you seat last?" I asked, watching with horror as a party of six came in. "Section four, non smoking," was her reply. Okay, I thought, then I'll just seat in section one, just to keep consistantly rotating between the waitresses. There were already some people sitting in section one-- where Amy was serving-- but there was a six-top open and I thought to stay consistent. So I seated the party of six at the six-top. Here comes Amy, carrying a tray of food, and she gives me one of the most evil, fake smiles and a case of the squinting eyes that I've ever seen. "Sam, honey," she purred like an evil sorceress emphasizing the fake sweetness, "you could have seated them at the six-top in section three. It's called SHARING. You have to ROTATE them so all the other servers get a *turn.* You know, left to right, top to bottom. We allllllll have to share here, my dear." I cannot demonstrate through words how extraordinarily evil she was in that precise moment. I looked in section three and saw it was empty. I was wrong. I do not deny that. I should have seated the party of six in section three, but Amy could have handled the situation a little differently-- Julie didn't train me so well, after all-- and all I could do was apologize. That very same day, Amy told Julie in the mother of all bitchy voices, "I'm so sick of kids! Do not seat any more kids in my section!" What a bitch. She ruined the rest of my day. I tried to give the waitresses the benefit of the doubt, but I know they cannot stand me and are doing all they can to get me to quit. Then there's Karen. Karen also has that fake sweetness about her, only she's a little bit more aggressive and upfront when you piss her off. I was in the process of cleaning off tables the other day, and I picked up the jelly container, the honey, and some menus. I placed the jelly container and the honey on the counter and proceeded to pick up more menus. Enter Karen: "I tired of you leaving this stuff around. The honey and the jelly does not go there! Put them away in the correct place!" Goddammit, I was getting to that. Before I could react, she grabbed the honey and the jelly out of my reach and stashed them away herself. This is the same woman who cusses worse than a redneck sailor and chain smokes in the breakroom. She has no class, no sense of decency-- she is the reason why I never speak to anyone during the day, except to the customers. It's no wonder she could not find anything to do with her life except waiting tables. Maybe I'm being a little harsh here, but she has never attempted to score any points in my book. Lastly, there's Jackie, who whispers behind my back about me, and then openly and loudly talks about her drinking parties at the waterfront and how she's hung over. She doesn't like me. I don't like her. It's just a case of our personalities clashing. The other waitresses at least demonstrate some patience. I mean, come on. This is my first job. The hostesses have to take most of the shit from the customers; I'm still learning. I liked Zelida before she to transfered to the Bob Evans in Middletown. She was always quite patient with me and calmly explained when I was doing something wrong. And then her last day came. As she was preparing to leave, I thought it best to make my peace even with her. I wished her good luck and said it was nice working with her. She turned to me and said in that sweet grandmotherly voice of hers, "Sam, I want you to promise me that you'll try not to upset the other girls." I didn't know what to say after that. I was quiet, or I at least muttered something as a reply. I really want to quit my job. This isn't just some whine fest about a girl whose lazy and would rather be stocking stuff in art stores. This is a genuine plea for mercy for the emotional trauma these people have been putting me through; the money is not even worth it anymore. I go to work everyday with dread. I went home in tears after the incident with Amy, and my mom was telling me that I can't be taking their shit anymore, that I have to tell the manager that the girls are harrassing me. But I'm too scared to. Besides, what is he going to do about it? Those people have been working there a lot longer than I, and I'm just there as hired help for the summer. On top of that, the waitresses are right. I'm not hosting correctly. And it really frustrates me when I don't understand how to do something, or don't do it correctly. I just want to quit and never work in the food industry anymore, unless its a nice restaurant with classy co-workers like those at Jeff Ruby's downtown. The problem is that theoretically, I'm only working for three more weeks in July. I'm quitting the first week of August and taking the rest of the summer off before I go to college, and I'm going on vacation for a week this July. Still. It's going to be a long three weeks. Working there really kills my spirit, really makes me unhappy. I hate it when it's busy because the chances that the waitresses will yell at me more are greater. I hate it when it's slow because all I do is stuff kids meals and watch the time crawl by. They see me as a quiet, softspoken girl who is not the brightest in the world. Yes, they say, the blonde roots really show. They don't know me, and it kills me. They don't know a thing about my life or what I'm all about; they probably don't even know this is my first job, although I don't see how it could be any more apparent. So, to help with coping I've taken up painting again. I promised myself that I would not do any art this summer, that I would start college with fresh ambition, motivation, and ideas, but it's the only thing that really helps me relax and shrug the poor events of the day off. Look at me; I'm dependent on art now. I can't even go more than three weeks without it. Right now, I'm working in the evenings at sunset when it's cooler, and I've bought some old bottles and placed them in a weak composition with a wheel barrel, a wagon wheel, and a long piece of clothy lace-- all converging into a centered composition against the fence in the backyard. It really doesn't make any sense and I can't find any meaning in it, but for some reason the old bottles, the rusty wheel barrel, the old lace, and the wagon wheel seems the most real to me, like it's a dusty memory of what used to be. Yeah, that's it. The objects just kind of look beautiful together. I next plan to do a composition of glass bottles sitting on a window sill. I'll do some back lighting to get some interesting values. I want to see if I can open up a gallery at the Coffee Affair down the street. The owners seem to like to exhibit some local artists crafts, and I want to see if I can cash in on that. After all, hosting is not a career choice. It's a summer job. What do waitresses know about art anyway?
A Bit of History ~ And Onward! L'Amour Toujours! - August 08, 2005 |
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