I FIGURED IT OUT, GUYS.
It’s not actually a uterus. They’re lying. It’s an ovary gremlin. Every time you get cramps, it’s because someone fed it after midnight (because it’s midnight somewhere, and gremlins run on fuck-you time) and then gave it a blender and said, “Have fun.”
sometimes, when i’m about to fall asleep, i pretend for just a moment that i’m dead; that i’ll never have to wake up ever again. and for that one moment, i am happier than i can find words to express.
and then i wake up.
Sometimes I feel like the ghost they’re describing
Really sucks knowing that someone you used to be so close with doesn’t like you, and no matter how much you try, you know they’ll never change their mind
I don’t know whether I forgot how to live, or if I just never knew in the first place. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with this life I’ve been given, or even if I want it. But I can’t turn it down because my mother told me always to accept gifts with a smile and a “thank you,” because it’s rude not to, and even if I don’t like it, it’s the thought that counts. But I’m not sure I really want this gift of Life, or what to do with it, so I’m afraid it’ll end up sitting on a shelf, collecting dust, until I die. And then they’ll come to claim my things and find my dusty, unused Life, sitting alone and unused on the shelf, and then they’ll know. It will have been a waste, and worthless. All because Life doesn’t come with an instruction manual.
Server Problems Rant Time
Sometimes I think that people just completely forget how to be socially acceptable when they go out to eat.
Or maybe they just don’t think their server qualifies as an actual human being and doesn’t need to be treated as such. Not to mention the weird-ass requests.
My restaurant is known primarily for its 3 flavors of chicken salad. Walnut, celery, and curry. But people frequently come in (regulars that KNOW the 3 flavors) and this conversation ensues:
Customer: I would like the chicken salad.
Me: Which kind? We have the walnut, celery, or curry.
Customer: The traditional one.
Me: …..so the walnut?
Customer: That’s not the traditional.
I am so sorry that you randomly decided that a different one is our “traditional,” even though ON THE MENU, it states that the Walnut was the first one we made, and is the most popular, and considered to be our “traditional” chicken salad.
Another favorite conversation of mine:
Me: What would you like to drink?
Customer: Hot decaf tea?
Me: I’ll check to see if we have any hot teas that are decaf.
Customer: You do.
I wasn’t aware that you were so up to date on our stock that not only do you already know that we carry your specific item of choosing, but we aren’t out of it currently. How about I sit and be the obnoxious customer and YOU be the server? No? Then please stop doing my job.
Also when people make strange requests that they don’t think they should be charged for. I can’t just put a heap of grilled chicken on your salad for free. Why? Because my boss said exactly how much to charge for it and I would rather not be jobless just because you don’t want to pay for that food you’re eating that we had to buy.
Another favorite encounter, between me and a random customer in another server’s section:
Customer: Excuse me, could you do me a favor?
Me: Yes of course, sir. What did you need?
Customer: Could you touch my food?
Me: ……I’m sorry, what?
Customer: I just need you to touch my sandwich real quick.
Me: Sir, I can’t do that. It’s a violation of health code.
Customer: I promise, it’s fine. I just need you to feel the bread. Just touch it.
Me: Sir, I can’t touch your food. Is something wrong?
Customer: *motions for me to lean in close, as if he’s going to whisper a secret* TOASTED. I wanted it -toasted- *slides plate toward me in disgust*
Customer: Ma’am, someone’s dog did their business on the sidewalk outside, but they didn’t clean it up. Could you go clean it up?
And I’m just standing here thinking, “I KNOW you know that I’m a server and I have to handle food, and you really want me touching dog shit before I bring your food out to you? Really?” This lady also frequently sits directly under the fan and then complains that our restaurant is too cold. We’ve caught her multiple times at our thermostat, changing the temperature to her liking.
I put the "timid" in "intimidation."
Hi. I'm awkward. I like things. Lots of things. So I share them for others to enjoy or ignore. Randomness prevails.