Wut About the Life as a Server?
So, being a server makes quick money for sure.
I’m always surprised by how generously people tip when you make them feel happy and well served.
I guess it’s the illusiveness of being rich— when you work your butt off to anticipate their needs and act like a multi-task babysitter, people would be deceived into believing they are Gatsby, don’t even have to handle his own umbrella to keep his cute penguin suit dry (damn I want that)(Leonardo’s destructive cuteness awww), and they tip like a rich.
—Of course there are still people who are not deceived and don’t tip at all. F those people who don’t know how to tip! Servers are, by the best metaphor I can think of, like Taylor Swift. They are smiling super sweet and being your cute lover, while secretly being back-stabbing and talking bitchy about you in her lyrics, which are echoing in a billion people’s earphones everyday. (and we—eeee! Are never ever ever getting back together!) People who leave bad tips always piss me off. But hey, who’s the one being sarcastic to those who tip well? Human minds are mean and hard to satisfy lol.
The best thing I like about my restaurant is the kids. I sincerely suggest the government to make an education tour in our restaurant for couples who don’t want kids. THEY’RE GONNA HAVE BABIES. LIKE FIVE FOR EACH FAMILY. Just see how the cold-blooded workaholic Teresa is being affected. Now I want a child. Oh no, A WHOLE BUNCH OF CHILDREN I mean. Cuteness overload in my restaurant EVERYDAY. <3<3<3<3
(Sounding like a pedophile already.)
Anyways, having lots of families in your work place is both good and bad. On one side I’m gradually thinkin’ about making a little contribution to the poor fertility rate in my country (only if my son will be super-duper cute), on the other side, well, that’s a quite shitty and sexist story.
So, character introduction now. Here I got my Ukraine colleague Vicktor. Endowed with an Abercrombie & Fitch model body, Victkor is, literally, enchanting the Mamas and Grannys in the restaurant. As a family-based restaurant, men here are tied with marriage, which limits the possibility of flirt-tips. (Getting the jealous stare of an angry wife? Nah, I’ll pass that.) But the ladies, on the other hand, can disguise their emotion cheat by the whole chivalry drama. As long as Vicktor is acting gentle and understanding and all sweet, these ladies can be guilt-free to enjoy the delightful image of his well-constructed arms handling trays like doing a sexy-sweaty lift in the gym AND THEN generously give out a 50 bucks tip out of a 50 bucks check. NO KIDDING. That’s when I first get a solid proof of the blindness of emotionally captivated women. So while I’m all sweating to please a Grandpa who eventually leave me 20 dollars out of a 80 bucks check saying “you are the cutest girl in this restaurant,” Vicktor is getting an 100% tip by chit-chating with Mamas in his Cute European Accent. That’s so not cool.
—But don’t get me wrong people, I love Vicktor like a brother. (And it’s my roommate who gets crazy and enrolled as one of the We-Love-Vicktor Club members with the mamas, Shhhhhhhh———-) (And-eh, I’m finding Vicktor’s roommate super cute. Wut with that body? <3<3<3)
Anyways, I guess this is gonna go on and on for the rest of the summer. Let’s see how I’ll turn out after this sick working-summer vacation.