So you want to get a 2nd job waitressing...

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Editorial and Opinion  |  House: Booksie Classic

A quick preview of the next six months of your life, if you choose to get a 2nd job waitressing for 'extra cash.'

So, you want to get a 2nd job, waitressing, to make 'a little extra money.'

You'll be the newbie for about a day, but you'll milk it with customers and management for weeks.  Your first shift you will make one or two new friends, but by the third shift you'll be friends with everyone.  Even that short weird little bus boy that no one talks to.  You actually pride yourself on the fact that you're warming up to the less popular staff members.  Shift one will end in drinking, as will every other shift in perpetuity.

You'll love it at first, but you'll never show it.  By shift three you will be openly bitching about work to your coworkers, even though the secret is that you love it.  You looooooooove it.  The stupid little highs and lows are even better than the reality shows you'd be sitting home watching if you weren't at work.  Because they're happening to YOU. 

Work drama begins to consume you.

You develop a crush on a coworker.  You begin to pick up shifts that you know he is working just to be around him, but you play it off like you just 'really need the money.'  But the truth is that you made 'enough' money before you got this job.  Now, somehow, you're making the same or less.  You contemplate where the money from this job even goes… (clue: alcohol)

You develop a deep, burning, irrational, blinding hatred for one of your managers.  You become convinced that this manager is literally getting off by screwing you and your coworkers at every turn.  Looking back someday, you'll realize that this was the beginning of the end.  

Your crush flirts with you, but not nearly as much as the short weird bus boy does.  And, like every other short weird bus boy that came before him, he flirts with his hands.  Then one day he is gone.  And no one cares to offer an explanation.  And there's another short weird bus boy in training.  You decide you're too cool to befriend bus boys anymore.

Seeing that you are picking up so many shifts, your managers decide that you must LOVE it there (which you do, in a much darker and unhealthier way than before.)  They begin to schedule you more, and more...

You are working seven nights a week, often with a few doubles in the mix.  You can't remember the last time you set your alarm with a time that ended in "AM."  Your skin has become pale and you have dark circles under your eyes.

You haven't done laundry in weeks because the only outfit you ever wear is your work uniform, and you don't wash your work uniform.  Like, ever.  

It's not unusual for you to go to bed with the sun already up.  

That dream you had? That you were gonna be pounding pavement for everyday? THAT YOU MOVED TO THE BIG CITY FOR? You haven't done THAT in weeks.  Any friends and contacts you had in that industry have long since forgotten you.

You have zero dollars all the time.

You go out drinking every night.  You sleep until the last possible second everyday. Your life consists only of working, drinking and sleeping.

On your way to work you stare at the train tracks and picture jumping in front of a train.  Then you picture shoving that manager you hate in front of the train.  You smile a little bit, but then sink quickly back into your never-ending world of self-hatred.

Management fires one of your favorite coworkers. Everyone talks about quitting.  A few people actually do. Now the restaurant is short-staffed and everyone is working all the time. Because of this you are all grumpy and bitchy all the time.

One night/morning, after a particularly rough shift and equally rough night of heavy drinking, you decide that you can't take it anymore. You fire off a drunken two-weeks notice email to that manager you hate.  "F**K you," you say out loud as you click SEND.

You wake up a little earlier the next day. It's sunny out. There's a little kick in your step, if you will.  You have an email about a potential gig in "that thing you did 'BEFORE'", and it is like the sun has shone for the first time in years.

You'll work three or four shifts and then stop showing up altogether.

Your coworkers will call and text about how much they miss you, but the only time they can hang out is at 1am. And then all they do is bitch about work, and you HATE it.

That potential gig falls through. You have no friends, no work, and no money.

Submitted: October 11, 2013

© Copyright 2020 marymargaret. All rights reserved.

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