Dear waitstaff and bartenders of Chicago,
You are the reason I cry at night. Please stop giving me dirty looks when I only order one cheap beer and nothing else. I used to be a server myself, and your piercing stares inject gooey guilt right inside my soul, leaving me a veritable Cadbury Egg of shame. My friends want to go to bars, and I want to be social, but I simply cannot put down the kind of money you want me to.
Here is how the math of my life breaks down right now:
My internship pays me $7.50 an hour.
After taxes are removed, I get a paycheck for $500 every other week.
So, I make $1000 per month. Wow.
$1000
-$550 rent
-$80 CTA
-$35 internet and cable
-$20 electricity
-$20 gas
---------------------
$295
Now, divide that by 30, and I have less than $10/day to feed myself (this is assuming impossibly good fortune: that I have no health issues, nothing I own ever breaks, nobody has a birthday, and I do not need any toiletries, toilet paper, cleaning products, hair cuts, or clothes). This also means that if I buy a single movie, play, or concert ticket, pay one cover charge, or buy one DVD or book, I pretty much have to eat ramen and drink water for the next two days.
In conclusion, dear servers, I am not a bitch. The economy may be kicking your ass pretty hard, but it is probably kicking mine harder. I can either buy one shitty beer and tip you >20%, or I can buy two beers or a real drink and—like millions of jackasses across America—tip you nothing. Either way, I have $3 to feed myself for the rest of the day. SO STOP FRICKING GLARING AT ME!
Yours,
Anneliese
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Please tell me you're taking that >$10 a day and spending it on actual groceries. Cuz if you spend even 5 days worth of >$10 a day, you'll be spending what I spend on groceries every two weeks.
ReplyDeleteAlso: at the show Saturday when I was selling demos, a man put $20 down my boobs and didn't ask for change or anything. Moral: Your boobs are a vortex that sucks in MONEY.