When You Wish Upon a Star


So a few days have passed since I last wrote because I do have a life and it doesn’t revolve around writing for this blog. Okay, kidding. I have just been really lazy and I totally don’t have a life. Plus, the Olympics, Project Runway and Survivor are also a priority for me. In addition to all that productive television watching I have been working on another writing project. Yes, I am writing a book about all the other jobs I have had in my life and when it is published if all of the readers of The Bitchy Waiter would buy one, I can sell about fourteen copies of it. I have been reviewing my old diaries to refresh my failing memory on all the things I have done in my life to earn money and one entry stopped me cold in my tracks. Had I not written it in my own hand, I never would have believed that it was from me. It proves to all those naysayers out there that I have not always been a spiteful, bitter, angry waiter. There was a time when I was as pure as the driven snow and filled with hope and and inspiration to serve others. Of course, this was before I was an actual waiter. I was just a lowly busboy dreaming of the day that I could be a waiter and reap the rewards of that position. Behold:

September 30, 1989: Worked tonight and made $31. Cool, eh? People tell me I’m a great busser. I want to be a great waiter. I really do.

First off, yes, I was working in a restaurant in 1989 which is probably before half of you bitches were born. And yes, $31 was a decent sum of money to me back then when my rent was only $275. It was a long time ago before cell phones, computers and I think it was right before they invented these flying machines called aeroplanes. But we must take notice of my aspiration to become a waiter and how I truly wanted to be a great one. I was working at a Mexican restaurant in Denver called Juanita’s. Who even knows if it’s still there? But that place groomed me for my future in the food service industry. There was one waitress there who always said “pardon me” when ever she walked by and I always thought it was so sophisticated of her. To this day, I say that instead of “excuse me” or “get the fuck out of my way.” I want to keep it classy.

I guess the point of this post is to remind us all that dreams really do come true. Jiminy Cricket says so and I do have him tattooed on my leg so it must be true. Here I was a mere child of six years old in 1989 and dreaming of the possibility of becoming a waiter. And twenty-one short years later, my dreams have come true. I am a waiter. Oh god, I am a waiter.
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