Boulevard of Broken Plates

When I first started as a waiter I imagined it would be fun, profitable, and a great way to meet girls. I would walk away each night with a wheelbarrow full of money and a giant smile on my face. Never mind that I‘d never been considered graceful, they probably had tricks to get around that. When I showed the managers what an industrious employee I could be, they would have to recognize me …

…often thought of bringing post-it notes and pasting an order to everyone’s forehead. My bosses seemed to not care that I was working my hardest for them. They took it as a sign I should probably work harder, so they scheduled me double-shifts so that I didn’t have much time to wander. I was too valuable where I was, making my $2.13 an hour plus tips, being a good example to the other employees.