mainsqueeze's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- If Youre Just As Scared As Me... Did I happen to mention anything about the recent lack of job stability in any of my last entries? Because there definitely was a lack of job stabilty; Now, there is a lack of a JOB. I got fired. I got fired from the place where prep cooks snort lines off of the meat grinder. I got fired from the place where the old manager smoked pot with the customers and the new manager brings her dog into the kitchen to keep her company. I got fired, friends, from the place where I spent the past two Easter Sundays, one Christmas, and three Halloweens. Wait, I got laid-off. This means unemployment eligibilty. Since the majority of my income came from tips, I will be reciving approximately eight dollars per week if I decide to apply. Maybe my new job will have employees my own age. I dont know if I could handle that. After all, I spent my days in a place where the average age was somewhere between forty and sixty. The men all drove Fords. The women all chain-smoked. Everybody looked defeated, because they were defeated. They thought that I was beautiful simply because I was young and kind and smart. They loved me and I loved them back. They had all experienced divorces and deaths and they belonged to unions. They were veterans. They were parents and grandparents. They were my people. Now I have to find new people, and I dont wanna. Give me construction workers, housewives, alcoholics, and gambling addicts, or give me death! Ha. Anyhow, my new major goal is to get a job at a coffee shop. Any coffee shop. I dont give a shit about whether or not its a hip hangout, or if its corporate or not. I dont give a shit if I make six dollars an hour or five fifty, I just want a job that allows me the freedom to a) Drink endless shots of espresso, and b) Talk to people who arent old enough to be my grandparents. Because old people dont believe in mixed coffee drinks, nosir. If I have learned anything from my three years waiting tables at a biker bar, it is that old people like plain black coffee, and that they dont care whether or not it is from Columbia or Mexico or Africa or Cuba. And they smoke Marlboro Reds, and they only drink domestic beers, and only in bottles, and they dont drive Japanese cars, and they dont believe in any work that doesnt involve using their hands. Sigh. It really is true that a new door opens when another is closed. I wonder where my new door will lead to.
11:21 p.m. - 2002-09-10 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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