Translation

Mrs. Kid’s Meal.

I want to be in your booth

Opposite, discoursing 

Bite after bite after

Sitting, drinking slowly

Mr. and Ms. consuming their worries.

• • •

“Hi! How are you guys doing tonight? Good! My name is Jenny, and I’ll be your server. Have you been here before? Yes? Wonderful. What can I bring you to drink? Pepsi? Iced Tea? Lemonade?”

EQUALS

“Hey there folks, I know you guys are doing awesome so let’s cut the small talk. I’m Jenny — not Jennifer, not “Hey you” and certainly not “Little Girl” — and basically I’m working here so I can afford to go to Starbucks eight times a week and shop at the Gap. I’m sure you’ve all been here a thousand times, that’s what they all say, yadda yadda yadda good for you. That doesn’t entitle you to get up from your seats while I’m still talking to you, telling you what your choices of soup and salad are. Let me know if you want anything repeated because you’re not listening to me, let me know if you want anything repeated because you’re not listening to me. Please. So how about beverages! A few suggestions, don’t order Coke because I won’t get it for you, don’t order alcohol because I’m not old enough to pour it, don’t ask for a Cherry Pepsi because it’s a pain in the ass for me to mix one up, and don’t order sake because I don’t know how the hell anyone can drink that godawful rice wine crap. How about you all order Mountain Dews and drink them niiiice and sloooow? YES? I’ll forewarn you, I’m going to ask you later if you want dessert — please try to act amused, I’m only hoping you’ll fill out a nice comment card for me. Also, if at any point I should force a laugh during our encounter this evening, it’s not because I want a tip, it’s because you’re actually the friendliest person I’ve come across all night. Please refrain from using that “If I eat any more, you’ll have to roll me out of here in a wheelbarrow!” line upon the completion of your meal. I’ve become completely immune to it’s comical aspect. Anyway, help yourselves to the grill when you feel so inclined, you filthy animals! If you need me to clear away your slimy plates or pig slop, make you laugh, or wipe your asses, I’ll be in the back putting away dishes and listening to the dishwasher talk about her graveyard shifts at McDonald’s. For the record, I am counting the hours until I can go home to sit on my ass and stuff my face with cereal. Say, can I sit down with you guys?”

If you could only hear the voices inside my head…