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Work; A thing that is as mandatory to my family as breathing. Work; a time consuming thing that no one likes. Work; A scary place to be.

There are several reasons why work is not a great place for me to be. Sure theres the obvious reasons, the getting up early, or the fact that I'm getting minimum wage even though I've been working there since early September and the fact that I get zero appreciation from the waitresses, but there are the other ones, the ones that piss me off. Now for those of the people whom are reading this and don't know what I do for work, my minimum wage job is to clean that tables that a customer leaves after eating their meal so that the 'busy' waitresses don't have to worry about it. I clean tables, put away dishes, and do the stores clean up at the end of the shift. (Carpet sweep, mopping, stock, cleaning the mirrors...Yada yada yada...) I deal with this because I have to, but there are some things that I don't think that I should have to deal with.

First of all, there is my manager, my boss. For security and saftey reasons I won't use her real name but something that describes her just as well. Let's call her Concieted Overweight Wench, or COW for short. Now COW and I don't get along. In fact, I can easily say that we despise each other. And because of this fact, we try to stay out of each others way as often as we can. But there are only so many places that you can go when the other is near when you work in a small area of a restaraunt. So finally the enevitable happened. I was washing the six tables in the back and the waitresses were practically yelling at me to clean the two tables in the front section, so I just ignored them like usual. I don't care if it's rude, it works for me. Anyways, I finish the tables in the back and walk through the waitresses station and paused to drop the plates into the bus pans and push my bangs out of my face. The COW walks out of the front and looks at me, for one second without a plate in my hand, and gives me an evil glare. If looks could kill, I would have been dead three times over, and that no lie. The COW pulls me into her office and closes the door. Then rants. And rants and rants and rants. Not loudly mind you, because we wouldn't want to make a scene and have the cunstomers wondering what was going on, oh no, we wouldn't want that. Tuning her out so that I didn't have to get fired for punching the windbag, I mean, boss, I still caught random peices of her 'discussion'. Something about the fact that I was the worst buser (thats what I'm called, I bus tables...) that she'd had in a long time. I regret now that I brought up the fact that the other busers never show up, because that didn't have the response that I was hoping for. The COW took to that topic like a fly to honey, going on and on about the fact that I hadn't been on time once, which wasn't true. I was on time seven times, but I didn't say that. It probably would have made things worse.

I dealt with that like I deal with alot of things, I take it inside and hold it until a more appropriate time shows itself. Somtimes there is not other appropriate time, and thats why I have a punching bag set up during the summer. Anyways...that was one time, but definitly not the last time. Just on Saturday, when I was working I went into the back, and the dishwasher dude didn't set up the plates right, and as I walked by they fell. Hearing the loud crash in the kitchen, COW came practically running in, stopping when she saw me with a broom in one hand and a bunch of brocken plate peices in my other. Now, Since the office incident we had kept to ourselves, staying as far away as was possible from the other. But this time I had become guilty in her eyes, just because I was cleaning up after the mess. Her eyes going from the missing plate spots to the peices on the floor, to me, and then back again, she began to count. Seven plates, seven plates each priced at 10$ each I had broken she told me. I was gripping the peices of brocken porcelain so hard I thought I was going to cut myself, but it was all I could do not to swing the broom and knock the COW's head off her shoulders. It was an almost painfull to hold it back, but I did. Ignoring her and cleaning up the peices, I turned my back on her, and I don't think she appreciated it. I didn't care, She didn't ask me if it was my fault, what had happened, or if anyone was hurt. She just glared. After I put the broken glass into the brocken glass bucket, I turned around to see her gone. I was glad, because if I had to see her accusing glare turned toward me another time that day, I might have swung...

Theres also another reason for my not liking to go to work. A guy who's a cook, he scares me. Not scary in a weird way, but actually frightening. Again for the reasons of saftey I won't say his name, But I'll call him Stupid Obscene Biker, or SOB for short. Now also I think that this is the time to say that if the letters of the names I am refering to them as end up meaning something else, They are supposed to. It's how I feel about them. Well, back to the frightening cook. He may have a wife and a kid, but sometimes I wonder, I mean...well...how am I supposed to say this. He seems all nice when you first meet him but then he pushes the envelope on friendship. And not in a nice way. To put it simply, some of the things SOB has done could be classifyed as sexual harrassment. I've ignored it like alot of other things, but they are getting worse, and I'm running out of sick days to call in at work. Meh...I can't deck him because he's stronger then I could probably ever be and he's on the COW's good side, as well as married to a waitress that I work with. I even have babysat his kid once. Rotten little crabapple that creature was...

Anyways, aside from that, work is okay. Even when the waitresses tell me to do stuff i'm already doing, or when COW goes apeshit on me. Sometimes it's nice when no other busers show up for work, because that means more tip out for me. Woot for cash.

Well, now that I finally got through this without my internet window freezing up, and my mom telling me to get off the computer I say these last few words:
Mieah Aye. Mieah Hoo. Mieah Haa. Mieah AH AH!

Watch the fat man dance. Watch him go. The biggest nerd since, well, ever.
Numa Numa Iae