Better off in a dive bar.

I took my first job as a waitress in New York City so I could audition on my days off. I'm a horrible waitress, in fact I've always hated it, but the money was good because I worked at the "it" spot at the time. Big mistake. One of the managers I answered to lived on a diet of Reese's peanut butter cups and cocaine. For some reason, she had it out for me. Hated me. And I could never understand why. I mean, why not bully the homeless guy who fronted as a bus boy? I asked myself if she picked on me because I was new. Because at 5' and 100 lbs, I am seemingly frail? Maybe it's because I'm a good person and she's a high school dropout. Anyway, for months she breathed down my back, powdery nostrils flaring, and screamed at me for forgetting to drop steak knives on my tables. It's taken me years to realize that I'm too laid back a person for intense and particularly dumbass situations such as these. She desperately wanted me to care, but I just DIDN'T GIVE A SHIT.