It's Not Rocket Science

Today was my first shift at my temporary, part-time position at White Spot. You see, after months of irresponsible visa card usage I was pretty much forced into this. And after five minute into my shift it all suddenly came back to me; I hate restaurant jobs. I can deal with the hectic environment, the people, the terrible, terrible uniforms, the shitty food and even the fact that I had worked in restaurants all throughout high school and university and have quit time and time again only now to come back to another one after my graduation. That is all fine to me, I am not so stuck up that I can't swallow my pride for the sake of survival. But the the I cannot stand is the way these business are run and staffs are treated. Perhaps not all of my new co-workers know that I have had extensive food and service experiences but the way they treated me as the "first-timer" today was nothing short of how someone would treat another if that person was mentally handicapped. Every command was said with so much unnecessary emphasis and condescendingly superfluous repetition that made every single mundane task seem like verbal instructions for how to deal with something as important as dismantling a doomsday weapon. I really don't know how much I can continue working there if I expect to save any shred of dignity and self-respect. The only thought that's preventing to immediately marching in and quitting is the thought of these shoes:


My ideal part-time job right now would be to work at American Apparel but none of the Vancouver locations are hiring at this moment. Which means, I would have to stick with what I've got going on currently until my head explodes.
I love wearing hats when my hair is short. Totally hipster!