I’m sick of people telling me to smile lately.
I wrote this a while ago, and had to edit it for my class tomorrow. This is basically my mindset for the past week, with no hope of improvement.
Who even are you? Who am I? Who are you? Go get me coffee. I want an omelet. She wants egg beaters. He wants egg whites. My coffee is black. Mine has cream and 3 sugars. Bring the sugars on the side. I want splenda. Why are you still here? Why am I still here? Why are you still here? Carefully juggle 4 hot mugs. Turn a sharp corner. Balance 4 sugars on your wrist; 1 extra. Just in case. I SAID MILK. You said cream. I’m sorry you did say milk. Smile. “I’m sorry” smile; “you’re right” smile; “you’re fucking wrong and rude and fat and ugly and should-not-be-eating-bacon” smile. Smile while your grandparents are dying in your backroom. Smile while they decay. Smile while they go blind and senile and loveless. Smile. Finally, you got it right. Where is your boss? Picking his nose in the back, and putting the extra BIG, goo-ey, squishee ones in your food. That’s where. I’ll go get him for you now, M’am. M’AM? Do I look like a M’AM to you, missy? Heh. Missy. At least I’m not no m’am, m’am. Madame. Lovely. Gracious. Married. Respect-ful. Full of food. Full of hate. Full of spite. Snickering. Sneering. Sneering and snickering, sni-ck-ring and sneeeeeering. Lip curl. Your lip curls, did you know? You might need medical attention. That’s not normal. Snicker. I heard you’d like to speak with me, ladies. This server blahblahsneerblahblahsnickblahblahblahblub. Free drinks. Black. Milk, not cream. Walk around the pole. Grip 4 cooling mugs. 3 sugars. Smile. Now that’s better, missy. Sneer. Smile. “I’m sorry” smile; “you’re right” smile. “run back and forth, forwards and backwards, only to lose money” smile. S-M-I-L-E. Lips curled up. Lips curl down. Lips. Mouth. Food. Words. Where is our waitress? Where is your server? Where is OUR waitress? Time for the check. Checking out. Cashing out. Time to get out. Out. OUT. Snicker. Sneer. Smile. Out.
