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Tyler |
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Saturday, March 6, 2004 at 3:25 PM Got to thinking about how when a dim-witted junior college drop out girl calls up, Adam remarks "Hoping to get into a little cocktailing?" with a diminutive tone. It reminds me of how if you strike up a conversation with someone and ask them what they do, if the response is "Cocktail waitress" imediately the listener forms a small bias in the negative way towards that person. How they might not have any education, are slutty, not smart, "Well, right now.... i'm cocktailing", etc. Why is this? I just dated a girl who was a cocktail waitress and she made twice as much as I did and I'm an environmental scientist. I have a B.S. from the 8th ranked university in the nation and yet my paycheck from 2 weeks is what this hot girl makes in two nights. Nevertheless, we as a society kind of look down at that profession. True, the bias is not without merit: often this is the only labor these women can do, having not gone to college, or only attempting junior college (the girl i dated by the way was 24 and taking a few classes at the local JC) but how did it become that these women are the butt of jokes and remarks? Often customers harass them both verbally and sexually (grabbing) and yet no one is offended but if the same happened to a congresswoman or a Taco Bell employee, legal action would ensue. I have no answers, i just wanted to see what you guys thought of it. To be perfectly honest with you, I had the same bias when i found out what she was doing: assumed she was not intelligent. Turns out I was kinda right, but I felt bad for assuming it at first. —Tyler |
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Leif |
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Saturday, March 6, 2004 at 3:52 PM You just reminded me, I've been planning to read Hey, Waitress! by Alison Owings, ever since reading this article at Salon.com. I think the book touches upon some of the things you're talking about, so I just thought I'd throw it in there. What I want to know is this: it's better to tip cash, right? (So they don't have to report it?) They always have that little blank on the credit card receipt, and it's so tempting to use... (TRM, I've been tipping the car wash guys more, ever since Adam went on a rant about it.) —Leif |
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Magnificent Bastard |
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Saturday, March 6, 2004 at 4:13 PM Ode To A Waitress
Mashed potatoes, baked potatoes, French fries, rice.
Mashed potatoes, baked potatoes, French fries, rice.
Mashed potatoes, baked potatoes, French fries, rice.
Whaddya want?
What’ll you have?
What’ll it be?
Those are the questions the waitress asks me.
No argument, no philosophical debate.
She just wants to know what I want on my plate.
If only life could always be so matter-o-fact.
Instead of everything being so out of whack.
Mashed potatoes, baked potatoes, French fries, rice.
Mashed potatoes, baked potatoes, French fries, rice.
Mashed potatoes, baked potatoes, French fries, rice.
She chants the mantra of the side dish.
Her desire is to fulfill my epicurean wish.
Soup or salad? Coffee or tea?
More questions she asks of me.
My heart knows the answers.
My mind knows what I like.
If only all decisions were so easily made.
If only everyone’s desires could be so easily conveyed.
But alas the world is not a diner.
And I don’t want to come across as a whiner.
Things are not always as they seem.
Sometimes the main course comes smothered in cream.
Sometimes the mashed potatoes are mixed with chives.
But these things barely affect our lives.
Chicken Noodle, Cream of Celery, or Matzo Ball.
These choices won’t make a nation fall.
Ranch, Creamy Italian, Russian or Blue Cheese.
There are no hidden agendas amongst these.
It can be all so easy, if you’ll let it.
Life doesn’t have to be affected by every nitwit.
Just place your order, and it’ll all be fine.
A simple moment of peace in which to dine.
-- R.A. Melos
copyright 2003
—Magnificent Bastard |
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