...would you like chips with that stick up your ass? so i started working as a hostess/take-out person at the chevy's in the financial district today. the job is pretty whatever but they're giving me lots of hours and it's money that i need. the thing that makes me want to throw up more than middle-aged i-bankers in suits is twenty-somethings i-bankers suits with their stupid leather laptop messenger bags and inane guffaws over rounds of over-sized margaritas, toasting their brilliant futures at merrill lynch. for some reason if one of them is a woman i want to throw up even more. i hate the way they look at me, and i don't know which look bothers me more-- the one that suggests that we could never be peers, or the one that suggests that we could.
i know that sounded a little rant-y but i'm really not that worked up about work. i mean, let's be serious--when i have nothing to do at work i stick crayons into mounds of tortilla dough for the kid's menus.
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1 comment:
that last part sounds pretty fun at least, the crayon thing i mean.
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