I'm A Complainer

Dear Children,

Your father has just got home from work. He's currently finishing the rest of his Fried Chicken Sandwich and enjoying an ice cold Hangar 24 beer. At nearly 23 years old, I am employed at Lucille's Smokehouse BBQ, serving barbecue to the citizens of Long Beach--usually Thursday-Sunday nights. Just so you know, I have already graduated college and have a Bachelor of Science in Microbiology under my belt. Pretty impressive, right? However, it's also the reason why I hate my job so much.

When telling my story to you guys, I want to be completely honest. Even if its brutal, and even if it makes me look bad, because I have always been an honest person. I want you to know who I was in good times, bad times, and before I became the person I want to be.

Kids, your father is a complainer. I complain a lot when I'm at work, and quite frankly, I absolutely hate my job. Whenever I mutter under my breath or say I need a new job, one of my coworkers reminds me that it could be much worse. And they're absolutely right. It could be much worse. I make $10 an hour and even on a bad night I still walk away with about $60 in tips. On a good night I've walked away with as much as $200. But the reason I hate my job is because I know that I could be somewhere so much better. With the time and money my parents invested in me going to college, and the social skills I have, I could be doing much more with my life. I'm not the customer service type. I understand why its necessary and why its important to give great customer service, but I am just not the type that can pretend to be happy with people that don't deserve my good grace. I'm the type that needs to be (and much emphasis on "needs") doing something that is making a difference. I want to know that the work I'm doing is valuable, and that my skills are indispensable. Although everyone should have a labor-based job once in their life, it's just not ideal to be picking up after other people's mess and scraping food off plates the rest of your life.

For now, I'm still a pessimist, and I'm not sure if that will ever change. I really, truly do hope that it does, and that I don't live the rest of my life expecting the worst from other people. I want you all to know that the little, tiny bit of optimism that lies within me is based on the fact that I know I can get through this. I've pulled myself out of some really tough times in life, and although I'm a complainer, I'm still a fighter. Not only do I want my parents to have a glimpse of the good life, but I'm doing this for you all. I know that one day, some day in the future, you'll be a part of my life, and I want to you all to taste the fruit of my success.

Going to sleep now, dreading the fact that I have to be at work by 3:30pm tomorrow on Valentine's Day. Not that your father gives a shit about Valentine's Day--trust me, it's not a real holiday. It's just some shit made up by card companies to generate revenue, so don't buy into any of it. Can't wait to see all the kissy couples tomorrow!