Make No Mistake

I will admit, I am not world’s best waitress. I have all the pep and earnestness in the world. But, I was also born with a head full of marbles where my brains are supposed to be and suffer from no less then twenty blonde moments on an average evening in the service industry world. Ask me to get you a napkin and I might return with a Philly Cheese Steak only to realize I am at the wrong table. I forget my GPS from time to time and get table 16 mixed up with table 114. If you need a drink from the bar, sidle up folks, it could be about twenty minutes. Granted, that is because the bartender has it out for me and would rather be using the fan to distort her voice for the entertainment of her bar guests than make my drinks. Last night was going to be different. I vowed to myself at the beginning of the shift that I would have a mistake-free night, I also set a monetary goal for myself (which I came twenty dollars under reaching, a problem that could have easily been solved had the hostess been on my team).

Trivia night was underway; the loud noise of the trivia hostess’ horrible musical choices in my ear, the party of 16 people who made me walk 26 miles back and forth to the kitchen with their endless requests for condiments, and despite ignoring me the entire evening, still had the audacity to request separate checks, my stomach was thrashing to the tune “Why oh Why Did I Eat so Many Carrots Before Work?” I was able to put all of this aside, and made it through the evening without having to apologize to the kitchen for typing my ticket in Chinese, or for bringing someone Diet Coke when they ordered a Gin and Tonic. A feeling of elation, a sense of euphoria ensued, I had finally evolved! Maybe now my career will take off and I will be able to get that top executive job and boss around minions upon minions of sheer and utter minions!!! I would even start a new company policy that everyone’s job title except for my own would be exactly that “Minion”.

While living in my own delusional dreamland, I began to clear the table from my very large parties. Since I had rocked on cleaning and tidying as I went, this would be a breeze and all I had to do was gather the cups, glasses, and a few bits and bobs of trash here and there. I stacked up each cup meticulously on a tray I was holding with my left hand, then I proceeded to grab a few glasses because hey, why not? I can take a little more! Talk about exhibiting independence, I cleaned this entire table BY MY SELF!! Take that servers and servistresses of America! Perfection.

Then, the curse of long limbs (which an evil witch cast on me when I was an infant, born weighing 6 pounds, 8 oz, and stretching out to 22 inches long), took over and I tripped over my own two feet, or legs, it really doesn’t matter at this point. I tripped. And everyone saw me do it. They also saw about a week’s worth of water glasses, sweet tea glasses, diet coke classes, and then all the water you would have to drink to be rehydrated after drinking the sweet tea and diet coke glasses (ballpark = 56) spill onto the floor of the restaurant. When I say spill, I mean like how a water hydrant or waterfall spills. They don’t tip lightly and gather gracefully with the bath salts in your tub, they GUSH.

This is the worst part: Everyone sitting at the bar, all the Jans, Janices, and Betty Lou’s at the table behind me, CHEERED. They took my sheer and utter already existing humiliation and put it on the Nightly News, Channel 33. With everyone looking at me and clapping, I got hopeful thinking perhaps this part was a dream, and I would wake up to find I had won the lottery or suddenly become a famous star. But alas, moments later, the mop bucket and wet rags in my hand reminded me of where I truly was. A mere minion.

I guess next time, I won’t make promises I can’t keep.

Ending on a positive note: Today I read a humorous article about getting Google and other search enginges “off your trail” so to speak. Google a bunch of things you do not care about, and visit Facebook pages of places you don’t give two rattlesnakes rattles about, and the ads that are pinpointed for YOUR INTERESTS which is creepy and borderline considered hacking even though you probably clicked “I Agree to Terms and Conditions” somewhere that allowed these sites to do this to you, will slowly but surely pop up less and less. It will skew their careful statistics, it will cast a different view of the public at large, and you won’t feel like Big Brother is watching you so often. Even though he still is.

Happy 4th of July!


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