Oh, waitressing. Waitressing, waitressing, waitressing.
I spent many a college year as a waitress. Hated it. Don't know why, really. This was pre-anxiety meds era, so maybe the stress was just too much at the time. But damn, it was good money.
It was socially acceptable to be a waitress at 18, 19, 20... All the waitresses are that age. Just on the cusp of growing into the real world where we don't have to waitress anymore. Saving up those shiny college degrees to get ourselves shiny careers one day.
Oh, did I mention I recently snagged myself a waitressing job?
"Hello, I'm three-years-to-30, what can I get for you tonight?"
I AM A WAITRESS
Notice I included no punctuation at the end of that statement. I don't know if it needs a period or an exclamation point or a question mark. Or all three.
If I could take a giant knife and shove it into the vertebrae of the economy, I would. I would watch it choke and bleed and suffer, then I'd throw it into a bonfire. For giggles, I'd throw the journalism industry in there, too. Watch it burn.
I AM A WAITRESS!
We are grown-ups now who don't make enough wages to pay our bills. My student loan repayment is in deferment because I no longer make enough money to pay back the money I spent on my college education.
My sparkly college education in journalism. So exciting, it was! I was going to be a reporter! Write for a big, shiny newspaper! I haven't even been out of college for four years and I'm out of the journalism field already, with no way back in any time soon, THANKS TO THE ECONOMY.
My talent goes to waste.
BUT I AM A WAITRESS.
Luckily, I have optimism. Life won't always be this difficult. And I'm certainly not alone with my economy woes. Misery loves company, and all that.
But I am a waitress.
Well, if nothing else, it'll make for some great blog fodder.