Day 107.

HI there. I have this strange feeling that tonight was purposefully orchestrated for a few different reasons, well actually one big reason. And, honestly, it is quite comical (and/or humiliating) in a ‘I can’t believe this is my life but it would totally happen to me’ kind of fashion. That being said, let me tell you about tonight.

My co-worker, lacey, the one I like so much and who took my Saturday shift so I could go see my dad, asked me to take her shift tonight two hours before it started. Normally I would have been a little frustrated and would have wanted to say no because I only have one work outfit and I hadn’t washed it from when I worked the night before. However, not only had lacey given me a favor, but she told me she couldn’t find anyone to sit with her kids because her mother, who was going to, had to stay overnight at the hospital for what seemed a serious reason. Why would I want to say no to her after hearing that? So I told her not a problem at all and frantically rushed home from the insurance agency to do laundry then ran back to the office to tie up some loose strings. After I finished up at the office I had like 45min to eat dinner, change clothes, and drive back to the office where I had left my cell before I had to go to the restaurant. It seemed like a normal night for the most part, though rather on the slow side. I kept getting frustrated because the servers kept putting all of their tables dishes in the busstubs instead of taking them to the kitchen like they are supposed to with the exception of extreme rush. Thus, I spended more time emptying busstubs then I did bussing tables. Once when I was unloading said tub, one of the servers came in and emptied her own dishes in the dishroom like the servers are supposed to. I was so annoyed at the other servers and knew better than to say anything to them, so I instead told this server, ‘thank you for bringing your dishes in, I really appreciate it.’ I simply couldn’t keep my mouth shut, and saying thanks seemed more productive then telling someone to shove it. Well, said server ended up going on a rant about how the other servers should be doing their job instead of making my life harder and consequently prevent tables from being cleared which prevents new tables from being seated which lessens everyone’s tip money.  Long sentence, much? I just responded with thanks and didn’t really say anything else. She ended up going and speaking with the manager on duty about it, who stalked to the other servers and my night got easier. Sure, dishes still ended up in the tub, but that is okay because it got rather busy and the servers stopped, for the most part, putting their dishes in the tub and then going to smoke while I did their work.  So that was good.

Part II: so you know how I told myself I wouldn’t quit my job as a busser until I no longer felt  above the job? Well, tonight I was thinking I’m over being prideful about silliness and I don’t think I care people seeing me do this nasty work because it is good, honest, hard work. So of course at around 9 o’clock thirty people come in to be seated unannounced, as in they didn’t have a reservation. And who would this group consist of? Well, I graduated high school with about half of them and several, if not all, the adults knew me personally and professionally. So I see these popular kids I had so many classes with— actually we had been in the same classes for four years because we were the smart kids, they were just popular while I disenfranchised myself.  Through that I was still thinking that I don’t really care, I don’t  care what they think of my doing this job….I might have also been thinking that I’m going to a better school than them too and other prideful things which doesn’t help my humble progress. So of course as I am walking by a table made of up this group with a huge, heavy busstub, one of the faces turns around and says, ‘krista! I didn’t know you worked here.” Of course it would be the person I have been trying to hang out with lately. Of course that person who happened to see me bussing tables with food all over my shirt and my hair matted with sweat to me head would be probably the only person out of my graduating class who’s opinion of me I actually care about, excepting my close friends. On the upside I wasn’t mortified, but I’m not quite sure how I feel about it even now. On the other upside, we talked as the group was leaving and plans should still be on for going to see a movie sometime soon. I mean, we’ve hung out at least once every single time we’ve been home from school at the same time this past year, so wealthy friend shouldn’t judge poor one who works hard-core, right? And to think earlier in the evening I was writing this blog in my head about Charlie (another kid I graduated with) flashed his voted best in class smile at me while I was bussing and it didn’t get a squeak from my pride at all. I was wondering if it was just because I knew he was a nice guy and most likely wouldn’t judge, but now I realize that I didn’t care what they thought of me in high school and I certainly don’t care now. That is why id didn’t bug me, not because I gotten over being so darn prideful about the whole thing.