Yeah, I took the job bar tending with a bunch of sorority girls who think it's cool to be mean. Mind you, when I applied, that was the furthest thing from my mind. I thought all it would take was some hard work and a lot of smiles, and it would be a great thing. However, I now know that it takes a lot more than that...it takes the patience of Job.
I am nice. I am polite. I am a great conversationalist, and better than that, I can mix a great drink - and I do it the old fashioned way, rimming the glass with the lime or lemon twist and therefore the guest can taste the lime/lemon with every sip. I don't pour too heavily, and I certainly don't pour too weakly.
I make the bloody mary with the salt around the rim if asked, despite the fact that I was told quite rudely, as well as I could understand the mile-a-minute mouth who blurted out, "No salt on the rim, we don't have a rimmer!" Sheeyitt...I don't need no stinkin' rimmer to salt the rim on a glass...
So, yes, tonight my patience was tested and even though I was treated with an enormous amount of disrespect by the girl with whom I worked, I still managed to get through the evening with my bank, with the proper amount of cash and credit to balance things out, and more than that, I'm proud of the fact that I survived somehow with good humor still intact.
No, I didn't have a bounty of tips to count at the end of my shift, but I wasn't rude to anyone and I displayed the manners that I was taught, and that in and of itself is a victory. My Mom and Dad would be proud of my work, they would proud of all the work I do in all my four jobs I hold right now, all are part-time, and all are perfectly suited to my temperament and skills - at least they appear to be so - and yes, my parents would not be ashamed of me at any moment during any hour of any of those jobs.
I will keep working, keep paying my bills, and keep on keeping on, as long as my poor old body will allow me to do so, and I won't be mean to anyone whilst doing so...and that, my lambchops, ain't bad.