I used to be a server in restaurants. I prided myself on my customer service and my ability to upsell unhealthy desserts.

The height of my career was when i graduated from a small mom n’ pop Italian joint to The Cheesecake Factory.

I had made it.

It was about 5 years into my career so I was a veteran then. I was way above the workplace drama of “Fuck that table, they didn’t tip me 15% and they asked for way too much ranch” and “Geez, Jessica is such a cokehead, she’s always in the bathroom and I have to run food for her tables.”

I was heavily into my Philosopher phase then. I would carry the Tao Te Ching in my apron and preach words of wisdom at any chance. When I would hear them bitch about tables, I would walk over and say something really profound like:

“Ask yourself how serving them ranch is like serving them love…”

One day, a new blonde server cut herself as she was slicing bread. Blood was squirting all over the cutting board and her freshly ironed apron.

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