April 21, 2002
Stupid Misery
Why, at the end of everything, must I be so impossibly girl-ish?
Tonight was murder on my body and my soul. Both are sure to be scored with scars.
I had practically all of non-smoking to seat, and I couldn't keep it full both because of slow business and because I had to walk to the ends of the earth. Or, rather, the back of the buffet. And Todd, the supervisor from the kitchen who is cross training, kind of randomly suspended the rules of our new seating system to suit himself. I realize he was just trying to help, and he doesn't mean any harm, but he drives me nuts. I am so capable of doing my job, I don't need him telling me what to do. I also don't appreciate that when I have my stations under control, aware of every open table and soon to be opening table, that he walks back with a party of six and wants to put them in the middle of the most popular room, taking up two tables which would be better suited for smaller parties. We have tables, in my section, that accomodate large parties. But he couldn't wait for me to come back. O No.
You're all, like, huh?
Well, that was just a brief bit of tonight's frustrations. I almost cried twice for a totally different reason.
I hate Brandon. He wasn't even supposed to work tonight. But he did. And this surprised me, and lumps of anxious air came bubbling up my throat and my eyes became riveted ever after on the line.
Why do I care? Why? If I could pursue a career in irrational attachment the road of my future would be paved in gold. I cannot help but like him. I cannot push him from my mind, despite myself, and of course, of course, I am miserable. I am miserable when he is there, because I know I cannot have him, and I am miserable when he is not because I know I cannot have him. I'm really not sure what is worse.
I was taking the labels down from the line at about a quarter 'till ten, and they had put the curtains up so that the customers could not see them breaking down the line. I could hear him talking, not two feet from me. I was comforted that he was there, that I was invisible to him. I could see just the top of his tall chef hat, moving about as he worked.
My heart quickens when I see that hat.
I heard him tell Leyla that he felt like shit tonight.
I guess we have something in common.
Had.
astera at 12:25 a.m.