(no subject)
So clearly sleeping would be such a better idea right now, but I have developed insights that I cannot keep inside. So I'm going to write. Because writing helps me get through life, as I wrote about in my "Living Through Writing" paper earlier this year.
Where to start...
So tonight, I realized what might be the reason for my negative point of view on life lately. I have been giving so much and not receiving in the past few weeks, maybe even couple months.
Specifically, I have started to work. I've started real work, as in at Bertucci's. I've been there since end of October, but the past two weekends, both Fridays and Saturdays, have been especially tiring and it amazes me that just these four times have affected me so much.
We have the same dilemma every single weekend and it's always because of parties larger than 4, and always regarding people calling in and 'reserving' a spot and then me not getting the notification or that I didn't see the note, and people end up waiting, disgruntled, and blaming me for their lack of food. I end up feeling terrible, because it really is my fault, and that's the worst part about it. You have people waiting with kids running around, getting more and more agitated, coming up to the host stand asking when it's time for them when you have 6 other parties of 4 or less people waiting to be seated, and there are seats available, but you can't seat them yet because you have to take down more names from people who just came in.
And tonight I did all of this alone. Thankfully, my manager is a good person and very nice, and she helped me out. I don't know how she survives doing this as her permanent job. She does PR, manual labor, customer care, carry-out, hostessing, pizza-cutting, computer work... man, I admire her a lot for handling all of that. She told me she was breaking out in hives and I believed it. I grew a small case above my lip a little after 8, when the continuous mad dash between 5 and 7 died down just a bit. I think I also might be especially more drained because I actually do my job. I get bread and olive oil whatever for tables who look like they've been waiting a while, I look around for empty tables, I wipe the counter, I fix the menus, I ask servers if they know they have xyz table and if they are willing to get another table, I get silverware and napkins, I bring high chairs, I sit people at tables, I wash the front doors and windows.
I better have lost weight. (ha, highly unlikely, considering I end up eating at 9 every time I have work)
It's funny to notice the patterns of how people come and go. They always seem to come in all at once, as if there's some natural force telling them all to go into a restaurant and eat.
Imagine if I had to do this for a living. Because there are co-workers of mine who have that exact feat. It's how their lives are going to be for who knows how long. They are going to be stuck in that disgusting back kitchen, scrubbing dishes with the remains of privileged people's saliva, indefinitely. It's hot, the floor gets extremely slippery and smushed with random pieces of gross food, and it smells like boiled cabbage (at least, what I think bad boiled cabbage would smell like.)
You'd think that being a hostess isn't that difficult. But the customers seem to think that since you're at the front of the house, you know everything. Especially tonight. I was there from 5 to 10, the longest shift I've had, and I felt like I had the wind knocked out of me. I can only imagine what it's like for the servers, especially the ones who've been there for almost 12 hours, just waiting tables. They always have to be alert and see if their tables are being seated, if their food has been made, if their occupied tables need more things. I don't understand how they can do it, much less do it for 11 hours straight with barely any breaks or opportunities to eat.
And it is so weird to realize, but it's like... almost 95% of Bertucci's customers are white. And I only realize it when I see people of other races come in. It's like, "Whoa. They're different." And it is so weird. I don't know if it's because of all the race-talk I have had in my educational experience that makes me so aware of my sub-conscious reaction to race. But it's like.. when I see an Asian family walk in, I feel myself talking differently, maybe even being a little more nice than usual because I don't want my questioning of whether they can understand me actually become evident. When a group of black customers come in and ask to be seated, occasionally I will think about where I am seating them and make sure there would be no way for them to claim that I was being racist towards them. I just can't believe that I am having these thoughts.
Because then it makes me think about when my family and I go to eat at restaurants. We are those Asian families that I address differently. I'm shaking my head just pondering that.
But I've also noticed, that the majority of the little kids who jump up on my host counter are little Asian boys. And I don't know why that is, but they seem to always be the ones. Obviously there are other kids too, but little Asian boys always do it. I don't think my brother does... maybe?
And what I also realize is that in the past month and a half, I have not experienced any sort of racism from either the customers nor any of my co-workers at Bertucci's. And I wonder why that is and I am really grateful for it. I mean, people have asked me if I speak Chinese, but that's just curiosity and it related to one of the managers who was moved to the Atrium and one of the bartenders because they're both Chinese but don't speak the language. Then again, they could totally be talking about me without me knowing it. I heard some inappropriate comments about a Spanish-speaking waitress the other night, since her brother started working too, and there have been rumors that she was 'fooling around with the manager' and people were like "well, yeah, now she can ship the rest of her family here too." And I was just like errrmmm what?!
What else makes my job make me feel down is that there is not a lot of opportunity to talk. The waitresses all know each other, and most people have worked there for a while. But I'm just there in my little host stand having a ton of face-time with the customers. I think my feeling that no one really talks to me (which I know is untrue) at school stems from this situation of no one talking to me at work. Well, not no one. But not a lot of people. And I don't really have a ton to say to them either. They're all mostly over 18 and live different lifestyles than I do.
Which brings me to a thought I had earlier: I can totally see why people are more easily attracted to drinking and partying and more... wild behavior (ha, I sound so naive right now, but that's okay) when you work a lot more instead of focus on academics. Which is totally a hypothesis and is not a fact at all. But it's just what I have derived from my thoughts. Academics, no matter how stressful and ritual they may become, do still fulfill your needs--your innate curiosity, your brain, your mind... but at work, I feel like the only thing you really obtain, if it is something that you have to do for the rest of your life, is a paycheck. I can look at it as a learning experience because I'll be thinking "Oh, so that's what it's like. Okay, cool. This is what I don't want to do for the rest of my life," when other people can't think that way because this is their life. It's a learning experience... but there's nothing they can really change about it. This is their before, middle, and after. Well, maybe after, they will retire. But what will this job really teach them? Work hard. I guess that could be something, and it is a very important realization to have.
But it's like.. after working so hard, you want to have fun, you want something exciting after being stuck at a restaurant all day serving people.
I've been giving a lot because of this job, but also, during all of the free blocks I have had during school these past two weeks, I have used it to do work. Because when I get home, I just don't want to do anything. I want to sit idly at my desk and think, and think, and not really get a whole lot accomplished. So I miss out on potential social interaction at school, and then I miss out on hanging out with people on the weekends because of this job.
And this afternoon, I caroled for about 2 and a half hours outside Brookline Booksmith until my voice was almost gone and I felt like I had a sock in my throat. But at least we made $131.32 in that time period. People pissed me off for not showing up, especially Mike Lasky, who I saw walking away from our caroling spot, and who I got out of my car to run to him and get him to walk back, and he did, and then he stayed for 2 minutes and dropped 2 dollare into our donations jar and said "Okay, I'm leaving, I really don't want to be here." Which I just hate. Who really does want to be here right now? I have much better things to do, too. Camerata is not my priority, as much as sometimes I have to make it. So that pissed me off. But I was very grateful to the people who did show up, and I made sure they knew it.
ON A BRIGHTER NOTE!
I love penguins. I came home tonight and my mom was watching "March Of The Penguins" with my brother and it was such a great movie. Penguins are so amazing. And I can't believe two men stayed in Antarctica for a whole year and filmed penguins. Like the scenes where the penguins are suffering from the wind and cold, those men also had to suffer it because they were there with the cameras. It's fascinating to think about.
I think I may have gotten nicer to my parents. But maybe it's just me. The more depressed I have gotten about life because of my job, the more comfortable I have felt talking to them about it. Like last night, when we went out to dinner, I told them about how I was feeling bad. So I guess we do have a communicative relationship.
I've decided to not go to school on Monday. There's no way how I'm going to do it. And my dad was fine with it. I feel guilty about it, but I don't understand how I could do it. 3-day weekend. woohoooo.
Or maybe I should not go to school on Tuesday... because that's the day when everyone will be talking about Brown and who got in ED...
It was so weird to hear people getting into schools on Friday. Two girls from my grade got into Dartmouth and Columbia. I think there were more who got into other schools, but I don't know where. But everyone knew. I never knew it could be like this, that the seniors from last year were probably like this but because I was a junior I didn't really feel it.
There's so much pressure and tension and talk about college. It's unbearable, yet sometimes I really do like talking about college. Just not all the time. I can't believe Zoe got into Dartmouth, not because I don't think she should have, but because I have known her since 5th grade. I saw her come into my classroom for the first time. And now she's in college.
We're all going away.
So, if you read all of the above, I'm pretty amazed.
There are some people who's entries I don't really like to read. But there are others who's entries I always read, no matter how long they are. I wonder what type of LJ friend I am for you. Because if you always read mine, then you'll have read the entire thing I have been writing for about a 1/2 hr. I wonder if this stuff is only interesting to me because it's about me and it's my thoughts. And if that's true for everyone's relationships with their entries.
Okay I don't really know what I'm typing anymore, so before I fall flat onto my keyboard, I'll just go.
Where to start...
So tonight, I realized what might be the reason for my negative point of view on life lately. I have been giving so much and not receiving in the past few weeks, maybe even couple months.
Specifically, I have started to work. I've started real work, as in at Bertucci's. I've been there since end of October, but the past two weekends, both Fridays and Saturdays, have been especially tiring and it amazes me that just these four times have affected me so much.
We have the same dilemma every single weekend and it's always because of parties larger than 4, and always regarding people calling in and 'reserving' a spot and then me not getting the notification or that I didn't see the note, and people end up waiting, disgruntled, and blaming me for their lack of food. I end up feeling terrible, because it really is my fault, and that's the worst part about it. You have people waiting with kids running around, getting more and more agitated, coming up to the host stand asking when it's time for them when you have 6 other parties of 4 or less people waiting to be seated, and there are seats available, but you can't seat them yet because you have to take down more names from people who just came in.
And tonight I did all of this alone. Thankfully, my manager is a good person and very nice, and she helped me out. I don't know how she survives doing this as her permanent job. She does PR, manual labor, customer care, carry-out, hostessing, pizza-cutting, computer work... man, I admire her a lot for handling all of that. She told me she was breaking out in hives and I believed it. I grew a small case above my lip a little after 8, when the continuous mad dash between 5 and 7 died down just a bit. I think I also might be especially more drained because I actually do my job. I get bread and olive oil whatever for tables who look like they've been waiting a while, I look around for empty tables, I wipe the counter, I fix the menus, I ask servers if they know they have xyz table and if they are willing to get another table, I get silverware and napkins, I bring high chairs, I sit people at tables, I wash the front doors and windows.
I better have lost weight. (ha, highly unlikely, considering I end up eating at 9 every time I have work)
It's funny to notice the patterns of how people come and go. They always seem to come in all at once, as if there's some natural force telling them all to go into a restaurant and eat.
Imagine if I had to do this for a living. Because there are co-workers of mine who have that exact feat. It's how their lives are going to be for who knows how long. They are going to be stuck in that disgusting back kitchen, scrubbing dishes with the remains of privileged people's saliva, indefinitely. It's hot, the floor gets extremely slippery and smushed with random pieces of gross food, and it smells like boiled cabbage (at least, what I think bad boiled cabbage would smell like.)
You'd think that being a hostess isn't that difficult. But the customers seem to think that since you're at the front of the house, you know everything. Especially tonight. I was there from 5 to 10, the longest shift I've had, and I felt like I had the wind knocked out of me. I can only imagine what it's like for the servers, especially the ones who've been there for almost 12 hours, just waiting tables. They always have to be alert and see if their tables are being seated, if their food has been made, if their occupied tables need more things. I don't understand how they can do it, much less do it for 11 hours straight with barely any breaks or opportunities to eat.
And it is so weird to realize, but it's like... almost 95% of Bertucci's customers are white. And I only realize it when I see people of other races come in. It's like, "Whoa. They're different." And it is so weird. I don't know if it's because of all the race-talk I have had in my educational experience that makes me so aware of my sub-conscious reaction to race. But it's like.. when I see an Asian family walk in, I feel myself talking differently, maybe even being a little more nice than usual because I don't want my questioning of whether they can understand me actually become evident. When a group of black customers come in and ask to be seated, occasionally I will think about where I am seating them and make sure there would be no way for them to claim that I was being racist towards them. I just can't believe that I am having these thoughts.
Because then it makes me think about when my family and I go to eat at restaurants. We are those Asian families that I address differently. I'm shaking my head just pondering that.
But I've also noticed, that the majority of the little kids who jump up on my host counter are little Asian boys. And I don't know why that is, but they seem to always be the ones. Obviously there are other kids too, but little Asian boys always do it. I don't think my brother does... maybe?
And what I also realize is that in the past month and a half, I have not experienced any sort of racism from either the customers nor any of my co-workers at Bertucci's. And I wonder why that is and I am really grateful for it. I mean, people have asked me if I speak Chinese, but that's just curiosity and it related to one of the managers who was moved to the Atrium and one of the bartenders because they're both Chinese but don't speak the language. Then again, they could totally be talking about me without me knowing it. I heard some inappropriate comments about a Spanish-speaking waitress the other night, since her brother started working too, and there have been rumors that she was 'fooling around with the manager' and people were like "well, yeah, now she can ship the rest of her family here too." And I was just like errrmmm what?!
What else makes my job make me feel down is that there is not a lot of opportunity to talk. The waitresses all know each other, and most people have worked there for a while. But I'm just there in my little host stand having a ton of face-time with the customers. I think my feeling that no one really talks to me (which I know is untrue) at school stems from this situation of no one talking to me at work. Well, not no one. But not a lot of people. And I don't really have a ton to say to them either. They're all mostly over 18 and live different lifestyles than I do.
Which brings me to a thought I had earlier: I can totally see why people are more easily attracted to drinking and partying and more... wild behavior (ha, I sound so naive right now, but that's okay) when you work a lot more instead of focus on academics. Which is totally a hypothesis and is not a fact at all. But it's just what I have derived from my thoughts. Academics, no matter how stressful and ritual they may become, do still fulfill your needs--your innate curiosity, your brain, your mind... but at work, I feel like the only thing you really obtain, if it is something that you have to do for the rest of your life, is a paycheck. I can look at it as a learning experience because I'll be thinking "Oh, so that's what it's like. Okay, cool. This is what I don't want to do for the rest of my life," when other people can't think that way because this is their life. It's a learning experience... but there's nothing they can really change about it. This is their before, middle, and after. Well, maybe after, they will retire. But what will this job really teach them? Work hard. I guess that could be something, and it is a very important realization to have.
But it's like.. after working so hard, you want to have fun, you want something exciting after being stuck at a restaurant all day serving people.
I've been giving a lot because of this job, but also, during all of the free blocks I have had during school these past two weeks, I have used it to do work. Because when I get home, I just don't want to do anything. I want to sit idly at my desk and think, and think, and not really get a whole lot accomplished. So I miss out on potential social interaction at school, and then I miss out on hanging out with people on the weekends because of this job.
And this afternoon, I caroled for about 2 and a half hours outside Brookline Booksmith until my voice was almost gone and I felt like I had a sock in my throat. But at least we made $131.32 in that time period. People pissed me off for not showing up, especially Mike Lasky, who I saw walking away from our caroling spot, and who I got out of my car to run to him and get him to walk back, and he did, and then he stayed for 2 minutes and dropped 2 dollare into our donations jar and said "Okay, I'm leaving, I really don't want to be here." Which I just hate. Who really does want to be here right now? I have much better things to do, too. Camerata is not my priority, as much as sometimes I have to make it. So that pissed me off. But I was very grateful to the people who did show up, and I made sure they knew it.
ON A BRIGHTER NOTE!
I love penguins. I came home tonight and my mom was watching "March Of The Penguins" with my brother and it was such a great movie. Penguins are so amazing. And I can't believe two men stayed in Antarctica for a whole year and filmed penguins. Like the scenes where the penguins are suffering from the wind and cold, those men also had to suffer it because they were there with the cameras. It's fascinating to think about.
I think I may have gotten nicer to my parents. But maybe it's just me. The more depressed I have gotten about life because of my job, the more comfortable I have felt talking to them about it. Like last night, when we went out to dinner, I told them about how I was feeling bad. So I guess we do have a communicative relationship.
I've decided to not go to school on Monday. There's no way how I'm going to do it. And my dad was fine with it. I feel guilty about it, but I don't understand how I could do it. 3-day weekend. woohoooo.
Or maybe I should not go to school on Tuesday... because that's the day when everyone will be talking about Brown and who got in ED...
It was so weird to hear people getting into schools on Friday. Two girls from my grade got into Dartmouth and Columbia. I think there were more who got into other schools, but I don't know where. But everyone knew. I never knew it could be like this, that the seniors from last year were probably like this but because I was a junior I didn't really feel it.
There's so much pressure and tension and talk about college. It's unbearable, yet sometimes I really do like talking about college. Just not all the time. I can't believe Zoe got into Dartmouth, not because I don't think she should have, but because I have known her since 5th grade. I saw her come into my classroom for the first time. And now she's in college.
We're all going away.
So, if you read all of the above, I'm pretty amazed.
There are some people who's entries I don't really like to read. But there are others who's entries I always read, no matter how long they are. I wonder what type of LJ friend I am for you. Because if you always read mine, then you'll have read the entire thing I have been writing for about a 1/2 hr. I wonder if this stuff is only interesting to me because it's about me and it's my thoughts. And if that's true for everyone's relationships with their entries.
Okay I don't really know what I'm typing anymore, so before I fall flat onto my keyboard, I'll just go.