I'll preface this PSA with a little background of, well, me...

I'm not stupid. I work hard. I went to college. I earned two degrees, one in English because it is my love, one in Economics because it's versatile, practical, and I got a kick out being the only white girl in the classroom, sleeping or doodling in the back of class, and ruining the curve for the more diligent.

Nothing has ever been "handed" to me. I went to college for free because I worked damn hard in high school. I've been independent since I was 16 years old. I had planned on going to law school, but changed my mind when I worked in a law firm with a bunch of assholes. That isn't who I want to be. No, I still do not know "what I want to be when I grow up."

I have a full-time editing job at a legal publishing company. Though I've been promoted twice in a little over two years, the pay is crap. "Senior Editor" is not as exciting or as lucrative as it sounds. I only have a B.A. I live in Cleveland, which means there is not exactly a plethura of opportunities available for someone who wants to be involved in the publishing industry.

Now, if I were married or co-habitating, my job would more than provide for my needs. However, unlike many of the Lexus SUV-driving women I work with, I am not married to a fucking doctor. My husband did not buy me a Phillips flat screen television on Valentine's Day for use in my bathroom (It's a BATHROOM for fuck's sake...how long do you plan to be in there?) I do not have a half a dozen pairs of Manolo Blahniks in my closet. You know what's even more amazing? I don't want that life, thanks all the same.

Now, I'm aware of the fact that I might sound a tad bit, what, bitter? Well, honestly, I'm not. The only thing that sort of bugs me these days is the complete lack of any party-hopping, PS2 playing, beer-swilling, punk-rockin, well-read, and interesting people who do not have families and therefore, might want to hang out from time to time.

But I digress. Back to my PSA.

Due to the aforementioned circumstances, and due to the fact that this last shitty year has left me more independent than I ever really wanted to be, I have a part time job waiting tables. It's not a horrible job. I make some great bank without waiting for a check, the hours are flexible, and restaurant people know how to have a good time.

Servers do, however, work their asses off. I think every person should have to experience it at some point in their lives. Feel free to check out bitterwaitress.com for more information. After working over 40 hours in the last three days at both jobs, the following has to be said...

If you deign to sit your yuppy asses in my section with your plastic size 2 trophy wives and your snotty teenagers ten minutes before the restaurant closes, refuse to even make eye-contact let alone return my greeting, run me ragged while your children are sitting at a seperate table drinking the Pina Coladas that you ordered and pouring ketchup in the salt shakers, spend $200 dollars and leave anything LESS than 15% and have the letters M.D. on your credit card, you'd better hope to God that I either

a.) didn't see which car was yours in the parking lot and scrape it to death with my car keys; or

b.) don't write down said credit card number for future reference

Got it?

Also...if you really feel compelled to bring the "cutest wittle baby in the whole whold" out to eat with you and said baby decides to chew up and then spit out the equivalent of four birds worth of chicken, you'd better

a.) clean it up your damn self; or

b.) see previously referenced choices.

Oh, and if you have to ask how much everything on the menu is, you should be eating at Wendy's. They have a whole menu where everything is $.99. I promise...you'll love it.


Happy fucking Halloween.