I'll show you f*&%*&^ flair!

This morning, on gchat as is our tradition, Georgia and I talked about life. It was very exciting - all about going back to school and maybe trying this (no, too hard)? Or how about this? Yeah, nah. I prefer to waitress and complain. OH wait, I've got it! You are just meant to be a failure. That? That I can probably get on board with. And wow, please don't post a comment on how, Hope, you are NOT a failure. My point isn't really that. It's that I don't know that I have a figuring out to do. Our conversation started because, ok, because last night at the restaurant another waitress breezed by and explained that "the woman at your table? It's her husband's birthday." And while I was just SO excited for him to turn another boring year older (this is the snob in me, it is - but if you are above 15 and trying to celebrate your birthday by having humiliated wait staff yell and throw peanuts, or sing, or clap - you are boring in real life). So I ignored it. And I knew it was wrong because if she chose to celebrate her husband's birthday that way, then, well, I guess we all have a right to exist or something. But the kicker? Upon walking out she told my manager! What? Was she hoping to accomplish? Oh come back next year, we'll make it extra special that time! Or maybe she was just angry and hoping I would get in trouble. Although she told the manager I'd forgotten. And if I'd forgotten, why not remind me? SLUT. So I got called out and I felt embarassed and then, angry. I know it was on me to do the birthday. I just resent that false flair we're supposed to live out while waiting tables. And throwing peanuts. Which led me to making choices in my life. Which led me to I can't wait tables much longer. Which led to what are my options and that's when I told Georgia, I don't think I have any. She responded in this way: that's why I think we mate, it gives us the opportunity to do what we want. Um, yeah.