so yea, fuck, why do people fucking tell me their life stories at work? do i have that kind of face you just wanna tell your life story to in front of your brother and girlfriend? cool man, cool. good to know that in the 80s there were “dead bodies all over tobacco road, that place is haunted as shit” why.
i start officially training as a server tomorrow and i’m just like ughhh on the brink of quitting my job. at first i was stoked, like yea okay i’ll make more money when i have to work shitty hours regardless, but the drive + hours are killing me softly. i’m not curing cancer over there. i’m handing people menus and getting them spicy mayo. it fucking blows. i just need something else. or the same thing but a lot closer. anyway i am going to stop complaining. i know i am lucky to have a shitty hostess job that pays me 9 bucks an hour for my minimal brain activity. i just can’t wait to actually do something meaningful!