Oh me. Oh my….

Let me preface this by saying… I love my job… ish. I love the people I work with, I love the people I work for… and it’s mutual. They love me too. It’s a big old family of great friends, and we all do our best to hold it together when it’s insanity…

Which it truly was yesterday.

I’m having a rough week. I miss my babies. I miss my old life. I take back every whiny thing I ever said about how hard it was to be a stay at home mom. Yes, it was work… but nothing compares to leaving them and working my ass off somewhere else AND at home.

I stepped on an ornament, and each running step at work feels like a new stab wound. I’m on an antibiotic/Aleve cocktail that would numb a horse, and it still hurts. I’m grinning and bearing it… but if given a minute, I’d cry about it for an hour or five.

Nothing is really going right- and I’m shaking it off before I walk in… absolutely dying for a cigarette… but knowing I’d have to explain it takes all the relief out of it. Dealing with the anti-smoker I love would only make this week worse, and besides… I’m on a roll with this quitting nonsense.

I’ve become a professional at putting a smile on my face and setting my personal life aside, to get the job done.

Server 101… come to work pissed off and your tips reflect it. Fake it, fake it, fake it, or die trying.

Quick trip to the bathroom for some pretty pink lip gloss. Sparkly green eyeshadow to distract them from the frown fighting with my smile. Eyes closed… silent prayer…

Lord please. Let them be kind. Let them understand when I can’t get to them immediately and even when I forget their 9th side of ranch dressing. Please let them be human, friendly and generous so I can pay the ridiculously high power bill.

Amen.

Walking on to the floor, it’s insane… and it was all night. Wall to wall people with people lined up and happy to wait, at the door. Seconds between the time the tables are cleared and a new group sits down.

My foot feeling more like a football… holy….

Like always, most people are nice…. but.

Some are asshole bastards who should not be allowed to leave the house.

We have a table of regulars that have haunted us every Monday, purely for the free prizes we give away for Monday night football. Awful, horrible, tightwad wastes of oxygen. We’ve had to kick a few of them out before. They’re truly awful and they ask the price of EVERYTHING. No offense to retarded people, but I’ve always been pretty convinced they’re just undiagnosed. We rotate… so when they walked in and it was my turn? I wanted to crawl in a hole. They stay for 5 hours, and they don’t tip… so I’m facing it knowing it’s a complete waste of my time in an already busy rush.

J- Can I get you folks something to drink?

Assholes- Water…. but how much is soda?

J- $2

A1- Can I have a half a glass for a dollar? You have free refills, right?

It takes all I have not to offer to pay the other dollar just to avoid this same old conversation. Incidentally, the price hasn’t changed in the 6 weeks they’ve been torturing us with their regular presence.

A2- What are the other options for fry sauce, and they’re free, right?

Lord please… please, please, please… deliver me.

J- You can have any of our salad dressings, BBQ sauce…?

A2- No I mean fry sauce.

J- We only have one fry sauce.

A2- And how much is that? And a side salad, $3? What about fries, can I order a half order for $2?

Mind you- the restaurant is full and I have a million things to do other than tell her the fucking prices, considering she’s holding a fucking menu and has been coming in to torture me and order the SAME FUCKING THING for the past two months. My smile fades… and I drop the “figure it the fuck out” server bomb.

J- I’ll give you a minute to decide and I’ll be back.

Yeah in about 5 hours after you’ve left…. <I wish>. ARGH. It takes all I have not to just snap and say to them what I’d really like to.

“Why do you leave the house? Why do you come here? If you don’t have $20 to go out and eat dinner, have a drink and tip your server, then do us all a damn favor and stay the fuck at home. We hate you, and we wish you ill will.”

The cigarette angel is begging me to break my promise… and I’m soooo close to listening to her soothing voice.

Deep breath, chug a glass of ice water and wipe the brain freeze tears from my eyes… fresh lip gloss and a smile forced back on. I’ve got this. I can pull it off.

Which is when a table of six dirty old men sits down. Now this can go two ways. They’re either silently appreciative and overtip me… or they’re outspoken and rude and I autograt them. Either way, when there are 6… I’m home free.

Or so I thought.

J- Hellllllo gentlemen, what can I bring you boys to drink?

Grin. Smile. Beaming happy server girl…at your service.

D- Are you on the menu?

J- We’re a family restaurant, nothing that expensive is on the menu.

Smile, laugh…. even though it’s not fucking funny, nor original.

D2- I’ll have a scotch and soda, when do you get off?

J- We don’t have hard alcohol, but there’s a wine list if you don’t drink beer?

D2- I asked you a question.

D3- Jake you can’t afford her, look at the size of that rock on her finger.

Now the smile is genuine. At least one of them is paying attention.

J- I’ll give you guys a minute to decide and I’ll be back… and as I’m walking away I hear the fucker say…

D2- With tits like that you’d have to put a big rock on her finger.

Deep breath… pretend like you didn’t hear it and keep fucking walking. DO NOT feed it.

Sigh…

I went back ten minutes later and they’d decided. I brought back their drinks and got a whole new slew of hassle from them. I’m at breaking point… wits end and all that jazz.

I ask if they’re ready to order and walk to the left of their table… feeling incredibly overwhelmed, to tell the truth. He reached out and put his hand on my left thigh, pulling me towards him to tell me his order… and I lost it.

J- Please don’t touch me.

D- Ohhhh she’s not friendly, is she guys.

They all start laughing…  and I walked away. Walked to the cash register and printed out the receipt for their beers… and walked back.

J- Here’s your check. You wont be eating dinner with us tonight. You know what? I’m not married, though my boyfriend would do things to you that you can only have nightmares about, simply for being disrespectful to me, never-mind having the nerve to touch me. I’m a single mom, doing my best to help you have a nice time when you go out so that I can pay the power bill. I am not an animal, and you have no right to treat me like one.

They were silent. Shamed. Red faced and getting out their wallets. I was red hot mad and offended.

J- Oh… and… even without these tits I wouldn’t consider any one of you. Have a good night guys.

Ooops…. and hallelujah. I took my non-smoking angst out on the deserving for a change, stood up for myself AND they tipped me $20 and left an apology on the receipt.

I’m really nice…

until I’m not.