I’m sitting in a white room. The soft hum of a halfhearted microwave and the muffled chitter chatter of my peers’ fills my ears. I’m focusing hard on the TV screen in front of me. Wheel of Fortune is on, and I can’t help but be captivated by it’s puzzling puzzles. As I watch the colorful wheel of destiny spin I fantasize about what I’d do with thousands of dollars. The fantasy is the same every time. Fix my financial messiness, and go shopping.
My twenty-minute break ended at least twenty minutes ago. Time to leave the break room and continue working for the man.
When I first took my current job in the retail industry I thought that standing behind a counter would be a chillaxed break from my long stint as a waitress. My assumption was wrong, and working in retail soon proved to be a new form of hell in which I now reside.
Let’s just say I work for a very well known department store that grosses millions and millions of dollars each year. Yet, I make a very minimum wage.
People are cheaper and bitchier than I ever could’ve imagined. In the restaurant business you sell greasy fattening food to obese patrons who act as if they just got off the train from Auschwitz. In retail, you get people who come to a department store looking for thrift store bargains.
The following are irritating comments, complaints, and actions of retail customers that I have encountered:
What they said: “Where are the employees? This place is a shithole!”
What I’m thinking: You’re a shithole.
What they said: “I want a size 8!” snaps a woman as she shakes a skirt at me.
What I’m thinking: You’s a bitch.
What they said: “The coupons never work here! Nothing ever goes my way!”
What I’m thinking: O.M.G. Your coupon didn’t work?!?! Next your going to tell me couldn’t find a parking spot that was close to the entrance. My goodness, how do make it through the day with these insurmountable obstacles placed so strategically in your path?
What they said:” Why do YOU guys give us the coupons if we can’t use them?”
What I’m thinking:” I don’t give you the coupons. The company does. That’s right ladies, and gentlemen; I’m not a multi-billionaire I just work for one.
What they said:” I bet you shop here all the time!”
What I’m thinking: Yes ma’ m, I take my minimum wage check and run straight to the bank on payday. I don’t have bills, and I can afford to blow the little bit of money I make on the things I want.
What actually happens, sometimes: Today a woman stated that the shirt she selected off the sale rack was supposed to be 70% and then an extra 40% off the original price. “ That would be 110% off, and the shirt would be free” I replied. “Oh” Said the mathematically challenged woman. The people standing in line behind the woman made fun of her when she walked away, and I told them that made me like them more. I gave them an extra 25% off their purchase.
Let’s play a game called “Emily’s had 2 glasses of wine, and she’s feeling sassy”. That being said, I want to address a movie which has made my life harder as a girl.
The Notebook.
Spare me, the extra energy of having to write a synopsis of The Notebook. Almost everybody, and their mother has been forced to watch this movie. If you don’t know what the movie is about then you can do something that starts with a “Goo” and ends with an “gle”.
Chock full of mushy gushy crap this movie had me at hello. “The Notebook” will be the movie that all girls force the boyfriends to watch for the rest of eternity.
Girls want to believe that their boyfriends will be as faithful, and persistent as Noah (main character), and even if they don’t have a lot of money they can build you a huge house out of matchsticks, and then you can have your own room where you paint and eat pancakes all day.
To which I say, “yeah, yeah, go fuck yourself”.
However, I am a girl. I was totally born with a uterus and other girl parts. So of course, I’ve watched “The notebook” a ga-gillion times, and internally sighed as I wondered if I would ever meet someone who didn’t suck.
It should be noted, that I almost always watch this movie when I’m wasted. My brother has walked in on me on more than one occasion while I’ve been stuffing my wasted in face with greasy food and watching The Notebook.
And so because I think that movie is bullshit wrapped in a neat package with a pretty bow. And because I find it quite funny when boys are forced to watch this movie in an effort to get laid. And so, I give you….
Five Ways to Torture Your Boyfriend with “The Notebook”:
5. Love is so great, until some asshole rips your heart out and feeds it to the neighborhood dog. Remember when Noah was like “Oh I’m to poor for you. The social pressure is too much, wahhhh!”, and then he dumped Allie, and she cried over his dumb ass for a year? That was some real ass shit. That’s how love is, minus the over the top reunion on a rowboat. During this part of the movie, start crying and and angrily tell your boyfriend that if he ever ends your relationship abruptly then he better start preparing to face your wrath.
4. While watching this movie you have a huge oppurtunity to force premature commitment on your significant other. Every time something even slightly romantic happens squeal “AWWWWW!” Then give him the googly eyes and propose marriage.
3. Two words. Senior Citizens. Rarely has a movie combined the four letter word known as “love” with so many wrinkles. I usually fast forward the parts that show Allie and Noah in their golden years. But, hey I guess old people have feelings too. Cra–zzzzzy. Every time, the “old” version of the couple appears on screen tell your boyfriend how you can’t wait to age gracefully with him.
2. So when are you gonna build me a dream home like Super-Noah? Badger your boyfriend as to why he hasn’t built you a big white house with blue shutters. Demand accommodations, and let him know that real love always comes in the form of blood, sweat, and tears.
1. Be kind, rewind 
. Force your boyfriend to watch the movie over and over again until his ears and eyes start to bleed.
Obviously, if you like your boyfriend you’ll only do half of the suggestions on the list.
But if your looking to dump some extra baggage (aka the someone formally known as special)or if your boyfriend has an excellent sense of humor and has recently has received a back alley lobotomy then enjoy using the list to test the boundaries of your relationship!
Ok, my sleeping pills are starting to kick in. Sassy time is over and sleepy time is now in full effect.
I hate to sound like a grandma here, but when I was a young girl….we didn’t have texting, Twitter, Facebook, MySpace, or the IPhone. And if you had a cell phone you were damn lucky or rich. As a teenager I wasn’t constantly connected to the outside world. Moreover, the nature of romantic relationships my peers engaged in were not solidified by a “status” on a social networking website.
When I was a kid there was one family computer that everyone shared. There were a few exciting things you could do online. Send emails, send e-cards, or go on Ebay.
If my friend’s wanted to get a hold of me they called my house phone, and asked my parents to speak to me. If I wasn’t home then they couldn’t find me. There was no Facebook or Twitter status to establish my whereabouts. No cell phone number where I could be reached. The communication train started and ended with my home telephone.
Almost every time I log into my Facebook account I see people on my friends list who change their relationship status like underwear, and status updates that let me know all the little details of their love life.
Let’s put it this way, I know too much about your relationship, marriage, fuck-buddy, and/or random hook up. I know how destroyed you are over that guy who dumped you last week. I know how much you hate being single. I know how pissed you are at your boyfriend right now. I know these things because you told me via the Facebook.
Growing up my friends and family knew what was going on in my life because I did something wild and crazy…I told them face to face. There was no middle man. When my high school boyfriend broke up with me my friends found out because they saw me blubbering like an idiot in the cafeteria NOT because my relationship status changed on my Facebook page.
I love most of the new technology available to us today. I especially love my Ipod touch with all my heart and soul. However, sometimes I miss the days where status, and friends weren’t defined by social networking sites. Back in my day you knew who gave a shit about your life because they took the time walk right up to you, and ask what was up.
Writer’s Block is a bitch.
What can I say? Sometimes it’s hard to think of topics to complain about. However, something pissed me off today, and I realized that as long as the human race is present in my life I’ll always have something to write/bitch about.
So this is where I fill you in on what I’ve been doing with my semi-precious time for the past couple of months. Let’s see, where do I begin?
How Emmy Spends Her Day:
12:00 PM – Emmy awakens. Her hair resembles a cocker spaniel that has been caught in a wind tunnel, and her breath smells like clams and hot dogs.
12:45 PM – Emmy saunters down to the living room where she checks her Facebook, and E-mail account while she catches up on MTV television.
1:15 PM – Emmy is hungry. She starts her day with two pudding packs. Yum!
2:00 PM – Emmy has finally mustered up enough energy to engage in shower time.
3:00 PM – Emmy can not decide on an outfit, as usual. She gives up, and throws on her default outfit…polka dot stretch jeans paired with her boyfriend’s sweatshirt.
4:00 PM – Emmy eats spagetti O’s for lunch while watching TV.
4: 30 PM – Emmy washes dishes. She’s a team player, after all.
5:00 PM – Emmy lays on bed while flipping back and forth between MTV and the E! Channel. Periodically, she checks her Facebook.
5:30 PM- Emmy eats dinner.
6:15 PM – Emmy trudges off to her retail job dressed all in black.
9:00 PM – Emmy folds sweaters while thinking of her past mistakes.
10: 25 PM – Emmy’s home again! Time for a snack. Aka a trip to Wendy’s. Then she retreats to the couch for more television watching, and/or possibly a SNS game of Super Mario World.
3: 15 AM – Emmy finally goes to sleep. After another long day of dragging her body around, and eating more pudding cups than most preschoolers consume in a year, Emmy is all tuckered out.
Rinse. Lather. Repeat.
So as you can see, I’ve been riddled responsibility , and strenuous tasks that suck through all the time in my day.
Please send any comments, and/or suggestions for new blogs my way.
“Get off your lazy ass” IS a suggestion, but it is not a welcome one.
While there’s a countless amount of literature available for women interested in what really goes on inside a man’s head, I believe that it all ultimately boils down into a relatively simple classification. I’m willing to declassify man’s inner rating system because while women’s insatiable interest in men’s affection is extremely beneficial to men everywhere, the rising amout of self-help-esque dribble is driving me to insanity, and I sincerely hope my brief guide will be the butterfly wings to wreak a hurricane upon said genre.
It’s as simple as 1 through 10. If you’re a heterosexual male looking at you (a woman) you fit into one of these categories. As you can hopefully guess (unless you are, of course, categorized as a 1), the higher the number the greater your mating potential.
10: You have no practical use for this guide. You already make millions of dollars just being you, or having men try to buy your love (physical or emotional). Sorry to waste your time thus far, but I put 10s at the top of the list so you could see my humility, chivalry, and hopefully be so kindly as to sleep with me as a result. That means you, Angelina.
9: You are beautiful, and you know it. Not just because of the amount of affection and attention you are payed, but because deep down you know some glaring character flaws are often ignored due to your physical grace. If you didn’t have them, you’d be a ten. But you do. Yes, I’m calling you out on it, but I think the tens are on my side anyway.
8: You’d be a nine if you didn’t have that birthmark/scar/little bit o’ tub/whatever that naggig fear tha keeps you up at night is. Or, you have an awful personality despite drop dead gorgeous looms. If that’s the case, I hate you. But I’d still sleep with you one time, but not tell anybody.
7: Butterface. That’s all I have to say about that.
6: You look like Pam from The Office, but less funny and with no makeup. But you’d probably make an awesome girlfriend. An look on the bright side- no bag’s needed over your face. Unlike some people- sevens, looking at you.
5: You would make a good Mom, but it’ll be a while before that happens since everyody is just really happy to be your friend.
4: When your physical beauty reaches it’s peak around 18 (give or take a few years), you may feel like your best just isn’t good enough. That’s because it just might not be. You may be compensating by developing a very sweet personality. This is nice, but it is not makeup. Odds are at the bar, there’s you and another four, and one eight. How do you know the eight from the other four? Deep down you dislike her, and she gets all the guys. Also, you two make her look like a nine.
3: What is that shit on your face?
2: Bloated, bitchy, and likely living in a trailer, you may not have it all that bad, so long as you understand the one group that can’t say no to your charm- mulletman. ‘Nuff said.
1. Are those horns? You have no redeeming physical or personal qualities. Quite humanely however, you are most likely completely unaware of the unlikelihood of your finding a mate, since a haze of drugs and bright lights sedate you as you are carted around the world to county fairs where people pay ten cents to see the real live slug lady – half slug, half human – the experience of which haunts the dreams of little girls for years to come.
Men are from Mars Women are from Venus, Why Men Marry Bitches, Why Men Marry Bitches, The Manual: A True Bad Boy Explains how Men Think, Date, and Mate.-And What Women Can Do to Come Out on Top all of these books have one thing in common. They are geared towards recognizing the differences in men and women in the world of dating. The basic message in all of these books are that men are women are different. Each book states in no uncertain terms that men want excitement and to feel that “spark” with someone, and that women just want to feel secure. Therefore, according to these books women have to keep their emotions at bay no matter what. Since men want to feel “excitement” we’re expected to keep them on their toes. God forbid, a man get a little “bored”. After all, this is a species that can be entertained by watching a group of men toss a ball back and forth on a large field. As women, we have to think of new and sophisticated ways to out smart a man, and keep him on the edge of his seat in the relationship.
Now I would like to say something that is just not said enough when it comes what women want in relationships. It’s not just men who want to feel a spark, or a connection. It’s not just men who want to have great sex. And it’s not just men who want their ego pumped. Yeah, there are some key differences between men and women. But when it comes to the important stuff…I.E. attraction, connection, chemistry, companionship, and sex we all want the same shit. Women don’t want to settle down with just any old asshole. They want someone they can get excited about too. I’m tired of hearing and reading about what men want in a relationship. I want the exact same things a man wants in a significant other. Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus? I think not. Bitch, we’re from the same damn planet.
Here are my responses to the following dating and relationship books:
He’s Just Not that Into Me? Good, because I’ve blew off, disappeared, refused to commit to, denied the sanctity of marriage, and not called a few guys who would’ve done anything to keep me around. Here’s a thought: Fuck him! He was a loser anyway.
The Manual: A True Bad Boy Explains how Men Think, Date, and Mate.-And What Women Can Do to Come Out *Eye roll* I’m waiting for the day that I walk into a book store and see more than one man in the self help section beating their head up against a wall trying figure out what a women wants. When that day happens life will officially be fair.
Why Men Love Bitches? Men love anything which requires them to think less, and act more. No one wants to date an over emotional, blubbering mess. Guys would rather have a girl who has a backbone. Mystery solved. Here’s an idea for a book…Why Women Love Guys with Good Jobs and Hot Bodies. Now that’s a book we could all benefit from.
Okay so wanna know how women are REALLY different from men? The main difference between a man and a women is that a man MUST be attracted to the women. If the woman does not appear attractive to the man initially she will never appear attractive to him. That’s right ladies, no matter how much make up you wear, or how many pounds you drop if he doesn’t find you attractive in the beginning he never will. Whereas, a women can become attracted to man who she didn’t not initially find attractive. Maybe he’s smart or funny and the woman recognizes those qualities and develops an attraction. A man does not care how funny or bright you are…unless he finds you to be a couple steps above fuckable. Then he gives a shit.
NOBODY likes the following when it comes to relationships:
Neediness
Overly emotional behavior
Dependence
Weak backbone
Nag
Pseudo parental behavior
Boredom
We ALL want:
Sex (Yeah it’s at the top of my list, so what?)
Love (Ok, we can’t deny…it can be one of the best feelings in the world.)
Excitement (Looking forward to seeing that person you call your significant other helps..otherwise they’re not so significant)
Connection (Hey, we all want to feel understood by our special somebody)
The second Key Difference in women and men is that a woman will put up will bullshit longer. Taking shit from asshole’s is in our DNA as women. We’ll let you drive us to the edge right before we decide to say “fuck it” and jump off a cliff.
As writer and a former resident of South Jersey I have spent a decent amount of time working menial jobs. I’ve done things for money that no one should have to say out loud. That’s why I’ve compiled a list of my worst jobs and their most endearing qualities. Enjoy, and be glad you weren’t me.
Hudock’s Burger Stand
Worst job ever. Slaving over a grill when I could barely microwave a bowl of soup was not a smart career move on my part. Two weeks after this bullshit started, it ended. I blew the job off, and my mom said it was okay as long as I learned my lesson about working.
Career Highlight:
* Learning I couldn’t leave five minutes early even though my mom was already there to pick me up!
Happy Harry’s Discount Drugs
It takes a special person to wear a teal vest, and push buttons on cash register for store that receives about three customers per hour. For one year that special person was me. Stocking shelves as my eyes learned to adjust to florescent lighting, and resisting the urge to make inappropriate announcements over the intercom was my lot in life.
Career Highlight: Selling my teal vest in my “Priceless Items for Free” yard sale.
The Pennsville Diner
Remember that movie “My Big Fat Greek Wedding”? Remember that lovable Greek Family that ran that diner? Well, I’m pretty sure the Greeks I worked for were that lovable family’s Satanic counterparts. Also, I learned how hair ends up in your food, and how shitty and cheap people can be to kid who was just trying to make a buck! My boss, or someone who appeared to be in charge would sit on a crate smoking cigarettes waiting for orders to come in. His arms looked like Big Foot’s legs, and thanks to him I served shit load of hairy eggs that summer.
My coworkers were two girls who a little older than me. One was a girl I went to elementary school with. She hated me, and rolled her eyes at me in front of customers. The other girl had a DUI and deeply missed her former days at Red Lobster. I was very excited about starting community college in the fall (yes, my life was that depressing), and she had the motivation of a dead frog in a shallow pond.
Career Highlight:
*One time while waiting on a table of four women I refilled all their iced teas. However, when I came back with their iced teas I realized I didn’t remember which glass was belonged to each lady. I passed back the glasses of Russian Roulette to the four women. The looks on their faces were priceless because they realized they were all going to drinking each other’s backwash. Whoops.
*Working with a waitress named Darlene whose daughter was thrilled to have gotten knocked up as a teenager, and then became a stripper. Her daughter would come in, and I would always think “That’s all you have to look like to strip? I should be doing that.”
*Being asked if I could read and write before being given the marker to write the specials on the board.
Cracker Barrel
Spilling hot grits on my hand, and feel the scalding splash of coffee soak my Amish boy button up shirt as I carried coffee pots on trays(as required by the company) to tables was just one of the benefits to this craptackular job. That and wearing a brown an apron which displayed my name with one star (I never got more than one star) and being treated worse than a pig in a slaughterhouse was all pretty memorable and life changing at the same time.
Career Highlights:
- The company’s modo was “Pleasing People”. So I wrote “Pleasing People Sucks” on the white erase board. Management was pissed and called an emergency meeting where they demanded to know who wrote the statement on the board. I shook with laughter as everyone else tried their best to look as if they gave a shit.
- Meeting one of my best bud’s, Maria!
- Working every weekend , and missing any possibility of fun.
Cassella’s Italian Restaurant
My three day stint as a waitress in this poorly run restaurant ended with me coming into work to find that they had been taken over my new management. I left, got a crab cake lunch, put five bucks in my gas tank, and went home.
Career Highlight:
*Years later finding out that the manager who hired me for that job was being chased by the Russian mob.
Texas Roadhouse
Nothing like a center cut piece of cow next to a plate of cheese fries and a beer! I made decent bank, but being forced to line dance periodically during every shift was almost too much for me to bear. Mainly, because no one really wanted to teach me how to actually do the dances.
Career Highlights:
- Being arrested for trespassing with one of my co workers.
- Being banned from the company for being “below average”.
Growing Family Portraits
Selling baby pictures in Atlantic City seems like a risky business venture because…well…it is. The streets of Atlantic City are not meant for little blonde girls who don’t carry guns or drink alcohol on a regular basis. I made a lot of money, and mismanaged every dollar. The job lasted two months.
Career Highlights:
- Spilling Corona on my company laptop.
- Being stuck at a customer’s house for over SIX hours as she analyzed EVERY picture of her son. Apparently, he was a miracle baby because she was not supposed to be able to have children. The only miracle will be if that child doesn’t end up hating his mom so much that he becomes a serial killer.
- Trying to sell pictures of one mom’s baby who was cross eyed and screaming in EVERY picture.
Apple-bees
Two weeks of training, two free meals, and a hundred dollar paycheck. Then I quit before I even worked one real shift.
Career Highlights:
- That burger and onion peels was YUMMY!
Peebles
Meaningless retail job with the most hideous over priced clothes I’ve seen since Dress Barn.
Career Highlights:
- Being complimented on my adorable outfit from random old lady.
Cheeseburger in Paradise
Where do I begin? I’ve slung cheeseburgers at this place for a hot minute. I’ve met some cool peeps here, no lie. And while serving has been the bain of my existence since I was old enough to drive I’ve had some good times in that place. I wish I could tell you all the crazy things I’ve done at this job, but technically I’m still employed there so for now I must keep my mouth shut.
Career Highlights:
- Vannak’s (co-worker) parties complete with kegs and walk of shame the next morning on one of the coldest days of the year.
- Shaking my hips in an awkward fashion every time we sang the birthday song to a table.
- Shay dropping it like it was on fire every shift.
- Meeting Brandi, and being given the celeb couple nickname “Brem” because of our bff-ness.
- Goin’ clubbn’ with the whole crew, and my L-izzle for rizzle my shizzle.
* I’d love to say more, but can’t at this time.
And there you have it. My “career” up until today. BTW…I’m currently looking for a job. Contact me if your looking for bright new employees!
Dear Emmy,
Is it really possible for a poor guy to find a true love?
Yours,
Mr. Nice Guy
Hi Nice Guy,
Firstly, your question can be taken two ways. I will address both possibilities. I think your are asking if a “nice” guy can find true love. Every one’s heard the saying “Nice guys finish last” uttered by many guys. I’ve also heard many girl lament over the fact that they cannot find a “nice guy”. Let’s be real though, nice is boring. There are plenty of “nice” people out in the world, and I’m sure they can all find a way to interact with each other. What’s really hard is finding someone you have a real connection with, and that person not ending up being insane, an asshole, or if your lucky (like me) a combination of the two. The point is, that whether the nicest person in the world, or Hitler’s second cousin you are capable of finding love. People step in shit all the time. You never know who you could meet on this crazy planet we call Earth. Basically, keep an open mind, but in the mean time keep doin’ your thang. And remember love always punches you in the face when you least expect it.
PS- If your question meant “poor” in a lack of finances sort of way then the answer is yes. Women get suckered into relationships with men who can’t afford to buy them a double cheeseburger on the dollar menu all the time. I’ve dated broke guys, my friends, have dated broke guys, and my mother married broke guys. Women will put up with almost anything for a variety of reasons. Being broke doesn’t help, but it’s never been the singular cause of any of my break-ups or any body’s break-up that I have ever known. It’s when broke-ness is combined with asshole-ness that bitches get dumped, and subsequently lose out on finding love.
As someone who has been waiting tables for a WHILE I have lost that lovin’ feeling when it comes to the restaurant business. Of course, I guess you could say I always hated being a “food bitch” for the American public.
Recently, I noticed that waitresses who have only been employed with the company (that I work for) for a couple weeks were already training new employees. Despite the fact that I have been working for the company for over two years I was not asked to train new employees. Instead, my superiors trusted the waitresses who still ask questions during their shift to train new servers.
When I asked if I could train new employees my managers and fellow employees responded with a “NO!” in unison.
Hey man, that’s cool. I guess everyone’s worried that I’d say something inappropriate to the trainees, but they’re wrong! In fact, I created a sample of how I would train new waitresses/waiters at my job. And now I give you…..
So You Want to be a Waitress….
Lesson # 1
Get out while you still can: Listen, its not to late to run. You can still walk out the door, and never look back. Before you get addicted to the instant cash, and before people are able to strip you of your dignity all because you forgot their side of coleslaw. Before you this place makes you wish you were never born, and you sell your soul to company that wouldn’t care if your best friend and dog died on the same day. If you decide to walk out that door, not only will I not blame you, but I will come up with one hell of an alibi.
Lesson #2
Be prepared to put on a happy face no matter what!: This is the deal. The general public does not care about you. They are hungry, and they want service with a smile. Your smile doesn’t need to be sincere, but present it must be. So imagine that every customer has the phrase “Why so serious?” plastered on their forehead. This means that whether your depressed, your gerbil died in an unforeseen accident, or you just don’t want to live anymore the general public does not give a shit. As server it is now your responsibility to provide people with a false sense of security, and that means service with a smile. *Pukes*
Lesson #3
Details are for suckers who don’t know how to manage their time: So your customer wants a lemon in their water? Pssh. They’ll have to ask for that lemon. Furthermore, they’ll have to ask what “Today’s Special” is. As a server my time is precious. This isn’t the Ritz, and you get what you pay for. If you got a meal for 8 bucks you should be thrilled your food arrived without razor blades in it, and in a timely manner. I won’t play “Miss Cleo” (Former faux Jamaican psychic) with the customers. Got a question? Want some mayonnaise? Grow a pair and ask for it.
Lesson # 4
Sidework is for people without social lives: Every server is stuck with the daunting task of painstaking sidework that takes forever, and makes you miss last call at the bar. Fuck that. There’s way to get around extra work. Figure it out.
Lesson #5
People act like every meal is their last: Be prepared to be sat with some fat slob who acts like they just got out of Auschwitz. “I’m so starving” has been uttered by people who could probably feed a small country with the fat of their fore arm.
Quick Fix Solutions to Restaurant Bullshit:
The problem: Inconsiderate jerk keeps sucking down sodas which causes you to run a marathon in order to keep up with their refills.
The solution: When someone is sucking their soda faster down faster than Jenna Jameson hopped up on aderhol they don’t get another refill until the almost the end of their meal. Sucky McSuck will have a better chance of getting a drink in a desert than from yours truly.
The Problem: You forgot to put the food order in for a table. Customers are pissed.
The Solution: Blame everyone, but yourself. Blame the cooks, the manager, the girl in the section next to you. Hell, blame God if you have to, but you are never to blame. People just want to assign blame to something or someone. Give them someone to blame other than you, and you’ll still get a tip.
The Problem: You hate waiting tables. You now hate people, but are stuck in this shit hole of a job (that will never get better by the way) because your in debt up to your ass, and your addicted to the money.
The Solution: Drinking a lot, winning the lottery, inheriting money from a newly deceased rich relative, and going to college and graduating in a degree that doesn’t end in “art” , “film”, or “design”.
With all my restaurant knowledge I can’t believe my superiors won’t let me train anyone. Oh well, I can still refer the new employees to my website.
During an impromptu lunch at Red Lobster my co-workers and I discussed the impromptu topic of love. Our conversation got me thinking….what is love? According to movies love is never having to say your sorry, and holding someone’s hand until you freeze to death in the Atlantic Ocean. If my experiences with the elusive four letter word have taught me anything it’s that everybody has they’re own definition of “love”.
So thats why one torturous Saturday at work (I waitress) I decided to take a break from being a star employee and ask my co-workers what they thought relationship “love” was in one sentence.
The results were not scientific, but they were caused the motor wheels in my brain to turn a little.
The Question: What is love to you?
The Answers:
Herbert “HB”: When you can stand being around someone for more than 10 minutes.
Nina: When you can trust them someone and respect them, and you will go the extra mile for them.
Angie: Love is unconditional.
Vannak: When you can’t eat, shit , or sleep without them.
Karly: Loving someone despite their flaws and fucking imperfect they are.
Casey: Love is being with someone and knowing that no matter what else is going on being with them is all that matters. And really, really good sex.
Amanda: I’m not sure I believe in love.
Shannon: Love is a “Mutual Addiction”.
Chris: The ultimate test of tolerance.
Sara: Not being afraid to be yourself around someone.
Tony: When you have a kid.
I work with many more people than are listed here, but unforuntely I did not get to ask everyone the question because eventually I had to get back to waiting tables. Bummer.
However, many of my co-workers had to really think about what love was to them. Maybe that’s because it’s a general question, or maybe it’s because it’s a question that people aren’t directly asked on the regular.
Countless books, movies, and songs are written about it, people live and die for it, and a gillion internet dating sites are devoted to the hope of finding it.
Thanks to Michael Bolton we know what happens “When a Man Loves a Woman”, and Adam Sandler’s “Somebody Kill Me Please” via the movie “The Wedding Singer” sums up the suicidal feelings that tend to come along with the harsh sting of heartbreak. And who knew Kanye West was such a little bitch when it came to heartbreak?!?!
We know what when some is just not that into us. Fuck, there’s a movie AND a book dedicated to the notion that there’s a good chance that most of the people we date don’t give a shit if we live or die.
Then you have the movie “The Notebook” which encompasses every 14 year old girl’s dream. Two star-crossed lovers who probaly don’t even know each others middle names deciding to “make it honest” after facing a minimal amount of challenges.
Let me just point out a couple of things about “The Notebook” that are NOT true to life:
First, in real life that guy never woulda worked up the motivation to rebuild that house for her. Did you see that house?!?! That overgrown shack was all but burned to the ground! I find it quite suspect that he managed to rebuild that mess by HIMSELF. In real life he would’ve accepted defeat, and planted himself in front of the Playboy channel with a six pack, and a bowl of chips.
Second, after Allie got engaged to money bags she wouldn’t have thought twice about her broke ex-boyfriend. Take it from somebody whose dated a whole lot of broke. While dating a winner I never sat back and thought “Gee, I wonder what that bum is up to….”
Third, the only realistic part of the movie is the fact that Allie doens’t like Noah in the begining, but ends up dating him anyway since he chases her down like a rabid street hound would chase a steak tied to a stick.
However, this does not stop me from getting drunk and watching “The Notebook on a regular basis.
Why? Because despite popular belief I want to believe in the idea of “love”.
In conclusion, love can be a haneous bitch goddess from the planet “fuck you”. On the other love can be everything my co-workers described, and maybe whole lot more.
In the meantime, I’ll keep reading countless self-help books related to the topics of dating and relationships, listening to light FM, and rewinding that last scene in Titanic where Rose is supposed to “Never let go.”
