Warning: Sarcasm and smart-aleckyness is running high.
Service is something . . . well, with which I have a bone to pick.
What a servant. The “humility in serving” is a virtue to be sought (and a cliché to be avoided). It is one of those top of the line “Christian virtues” too. (Excuse the obsessive use of quote marks . . . and apparently parenthesis . . . I have yet to learn to write in tones.)
It is also my job. And I enjoy my job.
Just a thought: why is service so valued in ideals but undercut in support? People do not consider waiting to be a way to earn a living.
Here’s the weird-o-ness that just rubs me the wrong way (don’t worry, I won’t point too many fingers . . . only the middle):
These highly social people (I know because they don’t shut up), socially competent people, drag-ass through the shift, complaining about anything and everything and refusing, absolutely refusing to do the bare minimum (serve the damn coffee). This job . . . is a job, shut up? These people are friendly and kind and absolutely incapaz, incapable of bringing themselves to serve genuinely, or serve at all (their job title: server) for that matter.
Contrarily, Miss Antisocial (none other than la escritora, me) who is a genuine jerk inside, rarely smiles, does not socialize, who is incapaz, incapable of opening a conversation more than once in a blue moon, frazzles around the tables serving coffee, would you like room for cream? and even joking with the guests. I’m a bit put out if I’m pulled away from the service sector or told no, you may not continue, go home.
Maybe I misunderstand the word, but paradoxical is how I see this situation. Not to mention mind boggling and frustratingly impossible to understand.
