classic american diner

The Service Industry Is Spiritual

Think about it.

Every day I show up for my shift at the restaurant and it’s spotless. The floors have been mopped, the glasses polished from the night before, the money has been stacked in neat piles to divide among us. And as the minutes and hours past, pad thai noodles start to fall off the tables, people drink through the beer and wine, my apron gets progressively more greasy and my hair begins to smell like fish sauce (which I love, by the way). By the end of the night, the spotless restaurant that I walked into, has been totally wrecked.

At a certain hour, we passively aggressively turn the lights up and music down, to make it unbearable to be a patron anymore, and begin to clean and rebuild. Slowly, it starts to take some semblance of how it was. Every day this happens. Rebuild. Destroy. Rebuild. Destroy. Nothing is permanent and nothing is supposed to be.

((I think I need a day off))


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