The Stress of Exploitation

Not long after starting my day I received a message from the owner of where I work; sent out en masse to me and those I work alongside. I shall share the link HERE.

The longer I sit here the more bothered I become. The section on "Pre-shift" really gets my panties in a bunch. That's just a saying, for I am currently wearing boxer briefs. Which are yet another reminder of how much comfier things are for men. There are literal breeze holes for my butthole. Anyway...

We are a small staff in a small location. The kitchen is set up to only be able to handle so many food items at any given time. Last night we brought in nearly $5,500 with our labor. It was a bad night for us, but a good night to be the owner. We live in technologically driven times and because of that the Service Industry now has the option to use an app called Homebase. This app keeps track of your scheduled shifts and even tells you how much you made (pre-taxes) for your shift. Last night, our labor brought in nearly $5,500; pre-taxes I made $77.28.

The owner likes to stop in randomly and last night she showed up to a defeated FOH staff and a depleted BOH staff. While I was finishing up some cash transactions she said to me, "This is good. We want it to be busy. It's better for you than if it were slow." I looked her in her soul and said, "To a point."

I believe that for many, Service Industry workers are seen as stupid. Our bodies are seen as means to an end. At 31 years old my knees are wearing out, my wrists and elbows stiffen and groan, and my emotional strength is able to hit an all-time low. When you are going out: Treat restaurant, bar and retail staff nicely.

I don't think business owners realize what is occurring right now. We see signs that put the blame on the shoulders of those unwilling to hand over their labor and bodies; "staff walked out" and "the younger generations are lazy". Let us flip that script to "business owners are exploiting us for the bare minimum" and "selfishness and greed have been normalized". Now we're being told to keep our weekends open (whichever days those may be) for processing things; please don't do it on the clock. It is not useful or productive. "Your time off should complement your work. You shouldn’t be doing anything that impedes you being your best."    Also, do not discuss unions or unionizing because that really just harms you and I in the long run.

Last night things were hard, and some patrons took it upon themselves to remind us that we were to be serving them and that they were to be pleased. We were failing at pleasing them and they were not happy. It's always so very easy to spot those that have never worked in the service industry. They will be the people hollering at you from across a crowded room, sometimes snapping their fingers or even clapping. These individuals have no problem with reprimanding you very publicly, while those around sit silently by watching this form of abuse. They see me and my peers as trained animals and not as human beings. You often hear that these sorts of jobs are not to be complained about if we haven't attended college. Completely missing the mark. I have worked with many people who have gone to college and yet still stand alongside me at the silverware tray.

Capitalism is greed. It is the idea that hard work means money........... for someone, somewhere. I'll be taking my $77.28 with a smug face (don't tell me to smile) and the understanding that I am ready to set fire to the systems that be.

I handle my stress fairly well in the grand scheme of things, thank you.

March 4th, 2022

I learned something on the night of February 6th and into the early hours of the 7th. I learned that it is completely possible to both be so very happy while so very sad and angry.

That next morning before heading into work I stepped into the shower of his sister's place. I started weeping. I tried to hold it in so that Z couldn't hear me. It felt like my chest was cracking apart. I finally knew. I knew he didn't love me. I knew that I had loved him, despite the fact that he had never loved me.

I knew I had to leave. The person I was leaving him for was neither permanent nor rational. That didn't matter. I knew that I would regret losing the next two weeks more than anything else I'd been accepting around me. I knew my relationship meant nothing to me anymore. I was free.

I cried so much, and if he heard me; he never said anything.

-My Phone- 

When Do We Know?

How do we walk through life and figure out who is safe to be around? We can trust someone with our life and then be killed at their hand. We can fall in love, only to find out the other person never loved us but only found us useful. How long can one remain useful? I guess I am 3-years' worth of usefulness, and I'm alive. So that's good news I suppose. I don't know how much longer that 3-years could have gone had I not left him when I did. I believe he would have eventually left me. He knew I had nothing left to tear from my flesh and spill from my veins, I could no longer feed him. I wasn't even feeding myself most days.

I can wonder if it is because nobody knew me before Sacramento. I can wonder if it's because I do a really good job of coming off like a bitch. I can wonder about many things. Or I can allow myself to understand that it took a stranger meeting me, becoming my friend, and knowing within a very short period of time that I was more than the woman he saw sitting across from him. I was sinking. I'd wasted away in front of those that claimed to be my family now. I had been on my own while surrounded by the friends that carried his last name. They would have watched me die and then given him a ride to my funeral or paid for an Uber so he could make his loud, presence known; take my death and form it into his own tragedy. Then it would have become their tragedy to laugh about over a competitive game night around the table.

That stranger, my friend; saved me. I don't know why I never left. I've been trying and trying to understand my own mind. I don't know if I ever will. Up until that night at the Silent Disco I had only been existing through Portland and Sacramento, but then I met someone.

And although it has been so fucking hard some nights, I am keeping my promise to my friend. I am keeping the promise I made to myself. I will live.

I want to live. I want to experience everything that I can. I don't want to be afraid. I choose kindness, the ever-heavy experience of growth and healing, and to believe that there are good people mixed in with all of that trash.

I have a piano lesson tomorrow. I’m excited and nervous.

Ways to Go

Thank you, John.

Fuck yourself, John.

Is Love Blind?

I finished watching Love Is Blind Season 2, on Netflix. It's essentially an experiment on human connection. People sign up to discover if love is possible without knowing what another person looks like. They meet through a wall and start talking. Over time people are drawn more to some than others. The conversations become longer and deeper. Then they decide if they want to meet the person and go on to get married. It escalates quickly, and yes, I shit talk the fuck out of these people. As if I have any room to stand or talk.

My upbringing didn't allow for much wiggle room on intimacy and love. There were expectations placed upon me and the surrounding women I grew to know and admire. I thought intimacy and sex were one-in-the-same. If a man is pleased, then wallah! That's great news.

After leaving Zackary, I've learned such a huge lesson in such a small amount of time. Maybe that makes the three years feel like less of a loss. That is still to be determined. However, today I know more about myself than I did a month and a half ago. Intimacy and sex are not one-in-the-same. Intimacy is important amongst family, friends, and romantic partners. Communication and honesty bring you the warmest and safest feeling. It isn't always about the big, fun moments. Life isn't magical, it is just life. Who can be there in the not-fun moments? Who can experience both the ups and the downs in a healthy manner? Who makes you want to be a better person?

Every day comes to an end. There are so many ways to see the sunset. Are you looking? Who are you looking with? Maybe no one. That's okay; that's beautiful too. Just look up. Breathe in. Breathe out. You are here. You are safe.

I am grateful for every sunset.

Who Is 1 Stranger You Still Remember?

I will never forget this human being.

I was standing at the bus stop; it was cold outside, and the bus was running late. I was in early sobriety, and I really didn't want to be late to my AA meeting. Everyone always notices when you are late. I did not want to be noticed. I just needed to get there and slip in so that I wouldn't have to talk unless I wanted to. I was in a shitty mood. It was a bad day. Instead of seeing this as an opportunity to grow I decided to act just like the selfish, asshole, alcoholic that I am. So when a man I assumed survived in the streets started walking towards me I thought: "Oh here we fucking go. They are going to want money. They are going to want a cigarette. I'm not in the mood. I don't fucking want someone talking to me." He walked right on by me. The bus was still not fucking coming. I was pissed. A few minutes had passed and I saw that same guy walking back towards me. I figured there was no fucking way he was going to not ask for something this time. He pulled out a box of Reese's Pieces from his pocket and said, "Here. I love you, okay." I was confused for one second and then full of shame the next. He could tell I was having a bad day. He saw me as a human being and I saw him as a hassle. When I didn't take it right away because of the shame spiral I was tumbling down, he said, "Don't worry. I got some for me too." He opened his jacket and showed me his own candy choices. He went on to tell me that his mom didn't want him to go far but she would sometimes let him go grab treats from the gas station. He had different needs and a childlike innocence; she was an older woman doing what she still could to care for him. From what I gathered, she was all he had. He had picked out the Reese's Pieces for me. I love those things. He couldn't have known. I think I only spoke a handful of words during our interaction. Then he said he had to hurry before she got worried and he skipped along his way. He was very excited to get back home to eat his candy with his mom.

The bus drove right by me; I deserved it. That 15-minute, chilly walk was spent thinking about who I had become. I got to my meeting right-after-they-had-started. When they called on me to talk, I told everyone about him. I admitted to being the very version of myself that I blamed alcohol for. I was cruel, without the alcohol. I was scared that I had become my father. I was scared that it wasn't the alcohol, that it was me. Well, honey bunches, I've got some news for you: It was me. Alcohol may have made everything exaggerated and over the top but I actually was angry. I was so fucking angry that it was pouring out of me like lava in the form of hate and resentment.

That was the day that really cemented in the fact that the only thing that could help me do this, was love.

Inspired by Thoraya Maronesy via YouTube.

CPTSD From Narcissistic Abuse

Breathe in, breathe out.

You are here. You are safe.

-Danae Brooke

My Dating Profile:

 

I'm a 31-year-old womxn with a past. When drunk I have been known to put my feet on the wall while still wearing shoes. I've also been known to be up for a random bike ride here and there. Don't worry though I'm an alcoholic who doesn't drink now! Are you ready to take that on? It will be fun! I smoke on and off. It's a thing; a sexy thing. I've been told I smell of pancakes. I have a tapestry I refuse to get rid of that reads "Eat My Ass" and yes, I eat....

in bed when I am depressed. Depression! Depression for everyone! I can be really sad and really bummed out at any fucking time. I'm mysterious. I was raised Mormon. The One True Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints bestowed upon my head the gift of trauma and I am not fucking angry about it at all. I swear. Do we actually still care about that in 2022?

I dressed up as an Indigenous person. Which is super, super great and not problematic at all. I also had a dreadlock, super chill. I'm patriotic! Protesting Fascism, Racism, Police Violence, Capitalism, Misogyny, Another Missing Womxn Not Getting Enough Attention, Phobia of Human Existence, Anti-Abortion Laws? I'm in. I'm so proud to live in such a free country.

Wooooo! USA! USA! USA! We made it!

I've had an abortion.

END FORCED MOTHERHOOD.

My cat is my best friend, and you won't always be invited to join us. Bring a lint roller

or don't come at all, I don't care.

Texts With a Movie Star:

 

It's crazy how much we can be affected by someone without realizing it until we're on the outside looking in. Humans are either good for us, or they are bad for us; and balancing on that journey is fucking hard.

-D.B.

It's good to reflect back. But go easy on yourself. Remember you attract what you are not what you want. If you want respect from someone else, you have to respect yourself first. So give yourself the grace and respect you deserve right now. You are okay.

You are human. And being human means making mistakes.

-M

...

 

"Study the past if you would define the future."

-Confucius