The hardest Job in my life-

While in school I have held many food service jobs to pay bills, fund my addiction to travel, socialize, and pay for more school. The hardest of any of these jobs have been waiting tables for three years on weekends and evenings.

What makes this position so difficult? Well for starters, it is both mentally and physically taxing. Not only are you juggling a multitude of orders and request, but you must continue to present the facade of polite collectivism, while processing everybody's orders and contributing to team side-work. On busy days (more often then not) this seems to be an escape from my daily stresses of bill paying, family issues, roommate dilemmas, homework, career searching. However, on some busy days it just compounds those issues to an unbearable burden that pushes your mental health to the extremes. To add to this, many of my co-workers/managers seem to view me as a scape goat for their problems at work and I tend to be treated as a punching bag (many of them have jokingly and cynically agreed to this). The fast pace of the environment allows for small grains of truth to leak out during high energy joking and working among peers.

I have been having increasing stress dreams where I imagine myself snapping, such as flying off the handles at somebody. In other instances at work this is a split second where I feel of rage, fury, and I see red and fire and then squeeze that back into the corner of my mind and continue with that polite helpful smile. - "yes let me get you another soda" - "oh I'm sorry your toast is too dark, I'll have the cooks toast another for you" - To my manager, “I apologize, I’ll do better"

I find that it's almost like working out with weights or going to the gym. You push yourself to a point where you think you might collapse and in the long term picture you grow stronger. But what if one day I do snap.

I saw a customer snap the other day…she was cussing at the waitress and the manager in front of the whole dining room as everybody stared in awe and excitement. We had to file reports and call the cops. And I can’t stop but think… that could be me someday…What if I snap like that? What if I lose it and I have to be kicked out and humiliated by cops in the middle of the dining room full of people.

I try not to think about it...

What keeps me sane? What keeps me going?

I don’t know?....

I would say my new move up to the twin cites…Moving to a new place, new chapter and perhaps a promise of greener pasture and a light at the end of this tunnel. What if I really am just transferring my problems to another city? A friend of mine told me your problems follow you and just compounds the older you get. Maybe he has a point.

I would hope and pray I can find refuge when I move up north and I will find a new group of friends and better options.

Greener pasture-

That’s all I’m asking for…

Greener pastures-