I Said Medium Rare This is Bleeding

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Working as a bartender was hard. Some grown men were disgusting. Many of them. I still don't know how I feel about how I was able to brush things off so easily, because I simply had to. My pay depended on customers giving me tips. I was constantly arguing with myself in my head because ethically, I was repulsed, but I also needed money and needed to fit in the work environment. I got scared when things no longer phased me. I didn't like the desensitization or the feeling of defeat.

Submitted: April 25, 2019

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Submitted: April 25, 2019



I Said Medium Rare this is Bleeding

Starving artist but I haven’t
Created anything other than
A manipulation of the employee
Menu to make modifications
Turning a kid’s chicken
Fingers, to
Chicken Parmesan add onion add
Chili pepper extra chili pepper
Chef’s special stash
I haven’t been starving
Since I started 3602 hours
Ago hold the salt

I’ve written LTOP
Sixteen hundred fucking times

Never mind forget the onion and pickle

Breath must be fresh lettuce and my

Journal has been closed for
Two ten two many weeks
Shellac on my brittle nails and
No sparkly paint clogging underneath

Have you met a runner who doesn’t
Run my name is Julia I’m going to be
Taking care of you today, can I start
Myself with a glass of ice water

While I run to my car for a hot minute
Diet Coke and coffee aren’t
Cutting it but they’re racing my heart
Rate together twice as tight in seconds

Just please don’t smell me when I

Come back I promise it’s just

Herbs, we import them fresh

They’re for the green goddess

Salad dressing

Congratulations ten thousand steps
Buzzing on my left wrist it’s
Only 1pm will you double during
This double this second double in
A row and tomorrow too
Ten thousand steps and you’ve managed
To consume your daily sodium in
Breakfast chicken waffles oh you
Shouldn’t have
I should have called out
Today, no


Actually you should have

Plucked your eyebrows

Before walking into my

Restaurant you are a representation

Don’t scare the children

No metal no ink no hair no color

Look in the mirror who is that

Have you tried pushing your boobs

Up a little higher and closer

Like this let me help

You must never tell

The customer “No”

If the joke is bad you laugh

If the hand is too close

You laugh and when they ask

If you’re on the dessert menu

Or if you have hair

Between your sweaty asshole

You laugh and say

Only if you want


Behind closed doors I spit

And I will damn sure

Not smile more because my

Jagged jaw feels like it’s going to

Break and quite frankly

I don’t care

If the man at seat 6

Who asked to see the back of my shirt

And never looked above my waistline

After I turned around

Wants to fuck me enough

To tip me an extra five dollars

Making up for the two

I make each hour

That somehow never even ends up

On my paycheck.


How are we doing today?

Are we celebrating?

Of course! There is always

Something to celebrate.

At 10:06am

The chef bit my shoulder

And my neck because

Well he was hungry.

At 11:47am

I had waffles and ice cream

A coffee cup of warm Coors Lite

Waiting for me in the window

And a party of forty seven

Coming at two.

Come on bussers. Let me show you

How to change the Guinness.

I am only going to do this once.

© Copyright 2019 jbirdy. All rights reserved.

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