18 May 2009

Creepers and peepers and people who like to meddle

You know. I'm really disappointed. I really, really am. You know? You know who you are. Whoever it was who had the time, SPENT the time... trying to... what? Get something? Get somewhere? Do something? By doing... what, exactly? I mean, really. Thank God I can laugh about it now, but really--who are you? WHO? Who would go and waste the time and money on a stamp, spend the energy to concertedly mail a legal-sized envelope without a return address? What kind of person does that? Don't you realize that you won't get credit for looking good when you don't sign your name? I don't get it. It's just so... I don't know the word for it. What an ignobly ballsy thing to do.

Someone somewhere in some... (*hand circle-wave motion)... far off land (within this community, I much assume) found it their calling to print an entry I had written some months ago and mail it to my bosses. Oh yeah. It was mailed in a big brown envelope with no return address and marked "CONFIDENTIAL" on it. The entry, for the record, was one that recounted *shall we say* a 'story' of waitressing and my own monstrous lacking to process more understanding for people's bitchiness. Since realizing I was somewhat of a control freak (*see previous entry,) a MEGA amount of moments and accounts in and of my life have fallen into place and made SO much sense as to why I get SO worked up about things I cannot do anything about. Basically, I realized why I chose to get so impassioned about things (see: 'temperamentally intense-due-to-control issues') that I have absolutely zero control over. I.e. people's thoughts, responses, feelings, reactions, etc.

Anyway, the entry was a little raw, but nothing extreme and with absolutely zero reference to specific names, places, locations, people. Yet, I was approached and asked about it because it showed up in their mail; and the only kind of person to have sent it would have been someone who

a) knew the website (knew how to find it or SUPER coincidentally came across it)
b) knew who I was--enough to know to associate me with my place of work
c) knew where I worked
d) had purpose in sending it or d2) was petty/malicious

It really doesn't matter. Essentially, I've learned 2 very important lessons in all of this, following the lesson in being a control freak. (Probably more, but in the interest of time, I'll keep it down to two.)

1) There is no reason on earth to get that worked up about anything in the service industry. Really. People can be retarded, true, but who of us is exempt from being retarded? And there is certainly nothing that warrants the kind of ventage that was that entry. True. Especially in regards to the very public forum in which it was written and the potential for damage that it was and that it got dragged into my workplace. (Which, is, to whoever you are, SUPER uncool.) So, basic note to self: don't put such extreme anger into an entry, even when trying to be funny.

2) That people are still going to f*** people over even if they've never been mean to them a day in their lives. I try real hard to get along with everyone and NOT because I care if people like me--it is because I enjoy the challenge of getting a smile out of even the most difficult customer. (And why is that?? Because I believe that every single person is a human waiting to be loved and I thrive on the energy that comes from their smiles.) Sure I've spouted my hasty, heated words and I am FAR from perfect (and my mission to make people smile has its limits), but I generally go out of my way (until severely provoked otherwise) to make someone feel good about themselves. But people still aren't going to care.

In the end, it's just the basic principles on the playground being violated and luckily, I don't have time for it, nor do my bosses. I hope that whoever it was that read that blog and printed it out at least has read my other blogs and taken the time to enjoy them because anything less just means their mission was in vain.

1 comment:

  1. For the record. I think you are a very good waitress. I'm not not just saying that because I'm your friend. I saw you on Sunday. You are friendly without being intrusive, attentive without being hovering and relaxed while still busting you behind. You rock.


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