It all started when I quit my serving job of two years after being picked on right after the passing of my mom. I didn't ask for special treatment (let's be honest, I was entitled to special treatment), but merely wanted to fly under the radar, and when I got yelled at over omelettes and salads, I thought, This isn't my life. My life is a Kelly Kiloren Bensimon dream, full of jelly beans and rainbows and fine fashions. This isn't it! I'm out! Despite my immense longing for my employee discount and regular order of kale salad with grilled salmon, I got another job at another restaurant. Bad idea. For reference, I'd like to take the time to compare the new serving job to being stranded in the Sahara desert with a hangover after a night at Bootsy Bellows, Matthew Mcconaughey mirages at every turn (**See the Sundance hit "Sahara" starring the incomparable Penelope Cruz**), knowing death is imminent because you drank too much vodka and have no water. That is what this job was.
It was a trendy spot in River North that provided happy hour to all the elitist twenty-somethings looking to drink on a rooftop and pay nothing for it, including tip. The job mostly consisted of making $20-$30 while basting in an unairconditioned vestibule on the top floor, running subpar pretentious food up and down stairs for hours, and getting called "waitress!" by grown sweaty men with receding hairlines and obviously small penises. I was broke, tired, and emotionally battered. I had to ask my aunt for a loan for my rent, so that was super fun as well. Now let's be honest, I'm hardly a puppy in a Sarah Mclachlan commercial missing an eye with a singed ear, but this was no fun. It was rock bottom. I wish I could say I felt like season 4 Vanderpump Rules ~~Stassi Schroeder~~ at this point, but I was fat, lacked tan and extensions, and wasn't living on Kristen Doute's couch, so my rock bottom was on a whole other level.
One day, I was at said horrible Sahara serving job on a double shift. I worked my lunch shift and made a whopping zero dollars, and left during my break to attend a callback. As I sat there, my leg bouncing anxiously in my sad Forever21 dress, I did a cowardly thing that I don't regret: I texted my manager to say I wasn't coming back for my shift that night, or ever. Kk bye! My thought was this: I could far more easily get babysitting jobs through the babysitting agency I work with, and then I'd at least know what money I was making, instead of wasting my time to walk out with nothing. While my manager told me how disappointed she was, I nailed the audition because I was way more nervous about my day job than my acting career (wait but actually that's the most depressing thing I've ever written).
For the next few weeks, I became a monster. I binge watched whatever I could on Bravo, and then rewatched each new episode a solid 1000 times. Bachelor In Paradise became my tragic escape, as I got easily enveloped in the drama, but also hated myself for my lack of tan, abs, and clavicles. Confined to my couch by way of being broke, I lived off pasta, Eggo waffles, and thai food on the days I felt fancy. I didn't work out once. I took a lot of naps to take up my time and thus not feel compelled to spend money. I didn't read. I wasted time while I waited for my NEXT serving job to begin. Now that it has, I'm done with training, and I'm making coin, so ultimately it all works out. I even found a new salad to add salmon to and love and use my employee discount on!
It wasn't fun feeling like Britney Spears circa 2007. I felt I lacked control in every facet of my life, and couldn't afford a therapist to talk through it. But then I realized I had all the control in the world. I couldn't control the asshole people who got in my way, or jobs that made me no money, but I could control my involvement with those things, and I could choose to move on. If there's one thing I can't stand it's a blog post telling people how to live their lives, but I'm just saying if you don't like something change it. Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results (See: DJ James Kennedy, DJ extraordinaire and creator of 'Pump Sessions'). Don't be afraid to take a risk! Ramona Singer got extensions, Luann is marrying Tom after he cheated on her, heck, Jules Wainstein is divorcing her Jewish chode of a husband who looks like Danny Devito in Matilda! ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE! Anyway, hookers, I'm going back to bed now, because days off are way more fun when you don't have as many of them.