So…last year I quit serving and started assisting in a salon in Beverly Hills, all so I could have more time to write. Scroll down to my last blog post. It’s dated December 1st. That went well, didn’t it? Normally, my writing is the best when I’m annoyed with something. My assisting job took me way past annoyed, all the way to soul crushing shit fest. While serving, I said white women are among the worst people to serve. So what did I do? Start to work in the state’s capital of entitled, rude, and incredibly dumb, white women. And in a profession that is 99.9% women. Genius.
The clients were not as bad as “the ladies” I worked with . I understand if you are 18-22 and currently in a sorority and that’s all you’re about. Cool, fine. If you are in your mid to late 30’s and are constantly saying, “D G,” or “Zeta,” look in the mirror. Hard. That 22 year old is gone and that bought and paid for sisterhood crap makes me want to puke. I never got a lunch and couldn’t go to the bathroom unless I asked permission. Power trip much? What I really adored were the shitty comments about my weight. Really, a treat. So, between being miserable, poor and not writing, I finally ended that job. Struggling is not worth it sometimes. I’ve worked since I was fourteen and a half and to truly HATE a job, messed me up. Severing can be frustrating but in all the years I have been serving, I think I’ve cried twice because of it. Working with mean, mean girls turned me into a hot mess.
I will never assist anywhere again. It’s basically indentured servitude, and I’m too old and don’t care enough about hair to do that again. So, while going for drinks at TCMFF this year, I literally ran into an old manager of mine. He asked what I was doing in a hour…it’s TCM, drinking. Duh. He told me to come down and meet his GM, so in between martinis I got a job. Serving at a touristy location (Hollywood and Highland) seemed like a perfect fit with my background. Great, I got hired… and then didn’t get trained for one and a half months.
Again, I was at a terrible job, I couldn’t handle the INCREDIBLY terrible tips and trashy clientele. This place was pretty much Chuck E. Cheese for adults. My first night there I had to get security to kick a guy, who was strung out on heroin, off one of my tables. Since I’m a white devil, I can’t say what I really think and KNOW to be true as a server, I will let this clip from Louie do it for me.
My co workers were nice, that’s the only good thing I can say about the place.
Now I’m back at an Italian joint. It’s much nicer than the last Italian restaurant I worked at. Why? There are NO HIGH CHAIRS. I thought I died and went to Heaven. The only nuisance I have are the overly medicated housewives who can’t remember what they ordered and want to fight about it. I guess being wealthy and not having to work can be really stressful for some people. I’d love to try it out and let you know but, that’s not in the cards yet. Now that I’m back in my comfort zone, I’ve started writing again and I’ve been out to see 3 different classic films this week alone.
I tried something new and it sucked a fat choad. Sure, I was mad for a little while, but I’m not married and don’t have any kids, so I have the freedom to try new things. Put that in your pipe and smoke it, everyone my age who has children and thinks they are superior.