mainsqueeze's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- - Let's set the record straight: I don't really hate my job. I actually love my job. I wait tables at a tiny restaurant/casino/sports bar just down the street from my house, and I truly enjoy spending time with my customers and co-workers. I feel as comfortable at work as I do at home. I know everybody by name. I know all about their children and spouses and political views. I know about the addictions they've battled and the messy divorces and all of their many afflictions. I LOVE my job. However, the owner is an asshole. Strike that- He is an ASSHOLE. He is unsympathetic, lazy, and cheap. Oh, and he's an asshole. Anyhow, I wanted to clear that up because I had a really nice night at work tonight. I spent a lot of time talking with Gracie, my manager. She is such a wonderful, intelligent person, and I can't for the life of me figure out why she puts up with all of the bullshit she goes through everyday. She is very underpaid, for one, and her boss has no respect for her at all. Her husband (whom I also work with) used to beat her daily. She told me that he once took a loaded gun to her head, held her hand over the trigger, and screamed at her to pull it. She drove me home tonight, and while we were driving, she told me about a girl she knew. This girl was also in an abusive relationship, and Gracie begged her to move in with her (Gracie's husband was in prison at the time.) She told me that the girl agreed, and that after she hung up the phone, she never heard from her again. She said, "Angela, I don't understand how some people choose to stay in hopeless situations." I don't either, Gracie. All we can do is hope for the best. Everyone has to make their own decisions. 11:34 p.m. - 2002-06-12 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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