A stranger made me cry tonight at work.

For those of you that don't know, I'm a college student. So far, thanks to student loans, I've been paying my own way completely, in one form or another. To be able to do this, I have to work, pretty much year round. I have a housing bill due soon, that I'm not sure I'm going to be able to make. So every little bit counts?. And I have to do whatever I can to earn money. Currently I'm a waitress.

We hosted a frat/sorority party in my restaurant tonight. Not my type of people in probably the best of circumstances, and they certainly weren't my type tonight. Whether it was them laying their lit cigarettes on the tables, using our glasses for ashtrays, spilling their drinks on the floor, tables, pool table, and my clothing, stepping on me, or being their own parody, they were downright obnoxious. I think the funniest part of my evening was when one girl (dressed in too-tight rose-and-thorn spandex-like pants and a too-tight black shirt) loudly announced that there were these "two workers standing at the bar drinking!" Let me note at this point that it was not staff who were standing there drinking, it was simply two men who had come in out of the cold to get something to drink.

After they were gone, there was perhaps the biggest mess I've ever seen in my restaurant. Glasses, plastic cups, flowers and their various remnants, cigarette butts, ashes, papers, trash was littered over the entire place. And I cleaned it up, with the help the other waitress, or most of it anyway. There were still other customers to attend. Then she left, while I refilled ice bins and the fridge, and did all the duties we were supposed to split between us. I did it with a hung head, tired from the day. At that point, I was averaging $4.40 an hour, including tips.

A thought struck me tonight as I was working. I'd like my job, even enjoy it, if I didn't have to do it for the money. As it is, I'm basically selling my soul piecemeal. Not just my soul either, my dignity, my happiness, my pride, my goodness, my smiles, my goodwill, and my spirit are thrown in there somewhere, either getting sold as part of the "customer service" package, or being slowly torn asunder due to necessity. If I didn't have to do it for the money, I'd be able to stop myself from swallowing a retort to a particularly rude customer, or stand up for myself when someone was being an asshole.

I'm selling my soul piecemeal, to put food in my mouth and myself through college. For an education, a lofty ideal that guarantees nothing, and doesn't always offer true knowledge, or guarantee competent teaching, or teaching at all.

All this ran through my head as I lugged buckets of ice, to refill the bar I hadn't been allowed to be behind unless it was to restock beers, stock ice, or fetch empty, used glasses and wash them for the bartenders to use. I'd watched them count out their tips, more than a little envious that they were making perhaps 10 times the amount in tips that I had, in half the time. And I said nothing, just lugged more ice.

As I was dumping in another bucket, one of the bartenders approached me, and laid down a twenty-dollar bill, as much as I'd made in tips all evening. He said, "This is for all your help tonight." I couldn't even face him. This stranger, this man that I'd met once before in my life, was being kinder, more generous to me than every person I'd served that night, every person I'd cleaned up after. He expected no recompense, and the gesture itself certainly wasn't required. I whispered "thank you" to him, and walked away without picking it up, not being able to do so in his presence. Partially it was shame, partially gratitude, partially my waitress training, but also simple joy at his kindness.

And so I went to fetch another bucket of ice, and stood in the back, behind a closed door with the ice machine where no one might see, and cried. Cried for the kindness, cried for my shame. Had I done something, some action, which caused him to notice, and to take pity? Had I forced him, in some unknown way, to feel obligated to do this?

These thoughts flew from my head as I went back out and dumped the ice, struck by the thought that he might not have heard my whispered "thank you." So I sought him out, and told him again, and he just nodded, nonchalantly, as if it was nothing that any normal human being might be expected to do in those circumstances.

And you know, perhaps that's the thing. Perhaps it's not.

 Go placidly amidst the noise and haste,

and remember what peace there may be in silence...

- schizoid -