I don't know why people think that their servers are there for abuse. I had a woman the other day yell - yes, I do mean yell - at me because there was no whole wheat baguette to be had. She then complained to my boss, as if a lack of baguette were somehow the result of my poor service, and left without paying. My boss, of course, was cool about it and stood up for me. People! Firstly, it's a bakery. Sometimes? We have to bake stuff. Secondly, even if it were somebody's mistake, it's not mine, and believe it or not I'm a person, not a waitressing robot, and I think I'm due to the same basic respect as anyone else.
Between that and the Austrian, some days are just so taxing and stressfull that I feel like walking out. The Austrian, by the way, had another of our servers in tears the other day. Nobody deserves that kind of bullshit just to make a living. Some of the servers at work can be forgetful and/or slow, but there's not a damn one who would make anything short of their best effort to help our customers, and I think they deserve some respect for that, especially given what we're paid.
And people! Don't tip the server based on how the food tastes. We didn't make it.
I cheered myself up today, after all that madness yesterday, by buying the coolest hat the world has ever seen.
Things with coffeeboy are wonderful. Positively, absolutely, splendidly wonderful. There have been poorly-disguised implications of a real future between us, coming from both sides. I'm trying not to excited myself too much. These days, however, I'm spending more nights at his place than mine.
Finally wrote something -
Once when we were young & fresh with kisses,
slurps, bites, little slaps
in your truck -
I sat half-drunk and oozing sweet sex
the ride back, country road, deep night
and you swerved
suddenly, there was a rabbit shockwhite
in front of us -
bugsbunny ears -
and blood on the pavement.
The truck doors flew open like hawk wings
and we out, to imagine
the horror of little bones sticking out, little
brains mashed up little cute bunny dead.
Your hand on my shoulder as it twitched
last nerve pulses,
I cried. We went back for more.