Waitressing
If you every wanted a job that made you feel like the scum of the Earth, try your hand at waitressing. It's not like you're doing anything wrong, but you feel like it. You simply have no part of society but to feed the bellies of the rich, and the rest who want to be rich but can't afford to tip. Every bit of it disgusts me, having to smile at people that sit there and throw word-daggers at everything I believe, people I can run circles around in argument. But you sit there and smile, envision their place and circle in hell, and smile for the 10% tip the asshole is planning on giving you because he really is THAT much better than you.
It's funny, because to get into the gig (which every manager make it seem like waiting tables is brain surgery), I have to sit there and lie through my teeth. "Oh yes, my favorite part of waiting tables is getting to know the customer." Word vomit, now don't get me wrong I don't hate people, I just sincerely dislike 90% of the people I meet.
My brain will not shut off, when meeting someone I process every little thing they do to figure out who they are and what I don't like about them. It's amazing that I ever found someone to be with, or friends for that matter. I know I sound like I hate the human race, but I just judge it. I'm not perfect myself but I'm willing to admit it (most times), something that no one seems capable of doing anymore. The one thing I force myself to work on each day is love, but my God people make it so hard. And I will end this rant with a poem I wrote that mostly coincides with my first blog post.
Oh enter through those doors you masses.
To arrive at the peak of your day’s
Concentration and contemplation
Of what is worth your time to devour.
With padded wallets you hold power.
And your sharpened attitudes show
That you know society’s truths,
Here I am to serve your ego.
Short tempered for waiting is too slow,
You are animals hunting the kill
Licking your lips while others catch it,
For you dare not exert yourselves.
Time traces by as you eye the shelves
And I stand with my dutiful smile
Awaiting your precious decision
Oh the world might end with this small choice
A scent of anger traces your voice
For a time I thought you all were just
Thoughtless centers of this universe
But now I have become enlightened
This is a place of people frightened
Holding on to their order in life
As all else seems to be crashing down
Oh how can kindness grow with no love
So I shed my pessimistic eye
And serve no longer for money but love
For we are all headed down the same road
And its time for me to share some of your load.
It's funny, because to get into the gig (which every manager make it seem like waiting tables is brain surgery), I have to sit there and lie through my teeth. "Oh yes, my favorite part of waiting tables is getting to know the customer." Word vomit, now don't get me wrong I don't hate people, I just sincerely dislike 90% of the people I meet.
My brain will not shut off, when meeting someone I process every little thing they do to figure out who they are and what I don't like about them. It's amazing that I ever found someone to be with, or friends for that matter. I know I sound like I hate the human race, but I just judge it. I'm not perfect myself but I'm willing to admit it (most times), something that no one seems capable of doing anymore. The one thing I force myself to work on each day is love, but my God people make it so hard. And I will end this rant with a poem I wrote that mostly coincides with my first blog post.
Oh enter through those doors you masses.
To arrive at the peak of your day’s
Concentration and contemplation
Of what is worth your time to devour.
With padded wallets you hold power.
And your sharpened attitudes show
That you know society’s truths,
Here I am to serve your ego.
Short tempered for waiting is too slow,
You are animals hunting the kill
Licking your lips while others catch it,
For you dare not exert yourselves.
Time traces by as you eye the shelves
And I stand with my dutiful smile
Awaiting your precious decision
Oh the world might end with this small choice
A scent of anger traces your voice
For a time I thought you all were just
Thoughtless centers of this universe
But now I have become enlightened
This is a place of people frightened
Holding on to their order in life
As all else seems to be crashing down
Oh how can kindness grow with no love
So I shed my pessimistic eye
And serve no longer for money but love
For we are all headed down the same road
And its time for me to share some of your load.