SERVANT SNOB

I really hate that some of my posts seem negative and uninspiring. I have plenty of funny bones, but they fail to come out of the closet when it's time for me to write a post. It's 3am and I'd love to be sleeping if it weren't for all the quiet burning tear drops.

In a former post I talked about how I had picked up a menial (emphasis on menial) job as a waitress just to get me through the month of September. What I didn't tell you was that it was my first time being a server and the person that trained me was born out of her mothers anus. Her name is Maxine and she wears a poodle coif on top of her head. I'm serious about the name and the poodle coif. This is not fictional. Was she born out of her mothers anus?-maybe not, but she is definitely an asshole. Maxine trained me and because I was so 'green' to serving, I found myself asking too many questions, stuttering over answers and messing up. Part of the problem was in fact mine: I don't like being told what to do and I had NEVER served before.

It's a capricorn thing, but I'm stubborn as a mule who found shade in a desert. So when I was paired to be 'trained' by Maxine, all it felt like was being bossed around and micro-managed. Here I am, a naturally autonomous person, working in an environment that was so easy-you caught people reading the New York Times instead of rolling silverware, who turned into and thus treated like a bumbling simpleton. This chick breathed down my neck faithfully for 4 days making sure that I got water and not straws, asked if customers wanted rare, well, or medium, and knew the beers, whiskeys, house reds and whites. After all of that my nerves were shot and I was none the wiser about being a 'server'.

But Life is the greatest teacher and I kicked into high gear when I was set free from training mode into serving mode. I put my big girl pants on to get my first table of lucky number 5. I miss ordered their food, ran late food, overcharged, undercharged and scrambled. They were so pissed that they 'told' on me and not in secret either. Not in some discretionary type of way-just blatantly- WE GOT A DUD WAITRESS AND WE ARE NOT HAPPY-TAKE THIS COFFEE OFF OUR BILL! The manager was happy to do so but with me-no grace period whatsoever. Then it happened again. Half the acting crew of Lost and Vampire Diaries sat in my section and they wanted naked-salt/pepper olive oil only food. They came in with their LA hats and urban outfitters leggings and vests ordering drinks and wanting separate tabs. These kids made my night however, filling my esteem pot with extra money after I had felt so emotionally depleted hours before. Telling me that I had done a great job for my first time (at this point I felt it was wise to give a disclaimer) and cheering for me like I was apart of the gang. I went home that night feeling humiliated yet humbled.

When my coworkers asked me how I had done-I steered clear from telling them how much I made (I actually made quite a bit) instead informed them that I had been thrown to the wolves and barely survived. Obviously I had survived because I was back for more.

What I wasn't back for was Maxine and her too close for my tastes style of working with people. Apparently that grateful monday she had nothing else better to do with her life, except to come into the restaurant and give them back the money they paid her and watch me as I got my sideshow circus on. She asked me "HOW WAS MONDAY NIGHT? I SAW THAT YOU HAD THE CELEBRITY TABLE?" i said " OH..I GOT MY ASS KICKED! I WASN'T EXPECTING IT BUT IT TURNED OUT TO BE ALRIGHT." I said this statement in motion of walking away from her because I wasn't in the mood to be the butt of her jokes even though I was shamelessly self-deprecating. The second general manager who caught wind of my hectic evening wanted to talk to me about it. So the office chat included something to the effect of not wanting to let me go, and could I try out the Barrista position and he had heard I was overwhelmed. I in turn confessed that he had heard correct, no I'm not interested, and no you don't have to let me go-I quit, no hard feelings.

So today I quit. He asked me if I was down to work the next couple of days and I obliged not wanting to ruin the relationship but then I checked the schedule and saw the Devil was working the same Sunday as me. I rushed back to his office and in my grown woman's voice but toddlers bruised ego-told him to annex me for Sunday and walked out. Ripple effect, he came out and 'cut' me. Now for those of you not familiar with this term-it basically means "SCRAM". And guess who was on my heels telling me what to do on my way out of the door-yup..the poodle. She wanted my receipts, my closeout receipts, my book that held my tips, and after giving her all of that, in turn she gave me the "you can leave now." Pick your mouth up-old girl gave me 'permission' to leave.

So why was I soaking my pillow and losing sleep? Because I'm sensitive and have the skin of an eggshell. Because I don't like to fail and I don't like to be underestimated. Because I wanted to make a little bit of money. Because I wanted a chance to acquire a new skill. Because I wanted to say GET OFF MY DAMN BACK and couldn't find the nerve or courage. Because I had nothing else better to do but get caught up in some silly meaningless moment.
And the funny part about it, and this is no offense to anyone in the food/hospitality industry, the job was really beneath me and I shouldn't have taken it so seriously in the first place. I mean if you want to make a career out of serving food-knock yourself out. I honestly have bigger fish to fry and that's the real mackerel!  

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