Waitress Wendy

It goes without saying that it's pretty damn hard trying to get up for work on a Monday - the suck level rises up several more notches when you remember you work not one, but two jobs that day. F-U-C-K! So, I lay in bed for about 15 minutes after the alarm sounds off for roll call, say 'FML' a few times...then it's up and at 'em!

About a year ago, I had a brief moment of insanity and decided that in addition to my full time job, I'd start serving tables a couple days a week - but I'll delve into all that at a later time.

After spending 8 hours in an office, I'm ready to go home, throw on some sweatpants and park my ass on the couch with a glass of wine.  Unfortunately, yesterday's post-work routine involved me putting on a chef coat and some sweet non-slip clogs.  It's time to go feed the fancy, friendly folks of 'Napolis.

I rolled up to the restaurant feeling all warm and fuzzy thanks to my friend Pinot Grigio; you're probably asking yourself 'she drinks before work?' and the answer is YES (1 glass), because I'm going to need a little buzz if I'm going to be dealing with assholes for an additional 5 hours.  The other servers are standing around the kitchen twiddling their thumbs because the place is dead - the entire country is still recovering from their Super Bowl induced heartburn.  I'm standing at the kitchen computer clocking in when a fellow server/once a week manager who happened to be 'managing' last night approaches me and asks 'Jen, are you working tomorrow?'  A question of this sort automatically leads me to believe that he will be asking me to work again tomorrow so I naturally reply 'no, I'll be tied up with my other job'. He responded 'well good, because those pants are unacceptable'.

                                                    What?

I completely understand that every restaurant has uniform standards, but this petty, nitpicking bullshit pisses me off.  I looked down to make sure there wasn't a hole in my crotch, looked up at him and asked 'because...?' He rambled off something that didn't form a complete sentence but I'm pretty sure he said the word 'pleats' 5 or 6 times. OK, noted - must get man pants with pleats.

                                                           It's the pleats; it's actually an optical illusion


My pants aren't any tighter than any of the other pirate hookers here, so what is the big deal?  How long were you staring at my ass to make that profound conclusion?  He was clearly more embarrassed than I was; it was evident, when he started to profusely apologize like he had just kicked over my lemonade stand. I don't think some men know how hard it is for a woman to find a decent, fitting pair of trousers.  I had ventured out to the mall a few hungover Saturdays ago before work, because I desperately needed to upgrade from the Steve Urkel flood watch style.  However, I'm not going back to the 'Family Matters' route - I need to test the waters again.

Did I do thaaat?  Yes, I did - and I will again.