My eye is having a seizure because you are an idiot.

When I sat at my computer with a blog entry in mind, I literally stared at the screen for three minutes before something occurred to me. I never talk about my job other than why I need it, which is obvious and it makes me feel like my content is suffering for it. I am also disappointed that I have not mentioned the fabulous staff that we have all too much because they are some of the most amazingly-awesome people I've ever met, on clock and off. Not many part-timers can say that, and I should be grateful that I can.

The Stratosphere Lounge, or the Strat as most of us refer to it as, is like a home to me. It is a hookah lounge, where you can choose from a variety of flavored tobacco on our menu to smoke. It really leaves room for creativity, and the uh... employee discount on the tobacco is quite ...beneficial.

Bah, what am I kidding. I smoke a bowl every time I go to work. (I need to loosen up. This is beginning to sound like an advertisement.)

So the staff is pretty much the shit and I say this kindly. But I refuse to lead you all to believe that being a server there would be some sort of gift from God, because honestly, like any job, it has it's downfalls. Maybe I worded that wrong. Let me try again. The people that I serve can be really, really, really aggravating. Here is an example of what went through my mind last night: "Touch that coal again and I swear I will put it in a place where the burns won't be appreciated!" I think the guy saw the crazed look in my eyes and decided to give the coal prodding a rest. I am in this recently developed mindset where each bowl that I create becomes my baby- my sweet smelling, delectable baby. When people mess with my baby, they get the eye twitch. Another warranted eye twitch moment occurs when customers are asking for a drink in the fridge behind the register.

Me: "Hi! How can I help you?"

Customer: "Yeah I would like a drink."

Me: "Alright, what would you like?"

Customer: "A soda."

Me: (waiting for further details of said drink, as half of our fridge is a variety of soda)

Customer: (stares at me like I'm stupid for not being able to read his mind)

Me: (being the better person and all) "...What kind of soda?" (Did he really just make me ask?)

Customer: "Oh wait, no, I'd like a Gatorade."

Me: (waiting yet again for specifics, as we have a spectrum of Gatorade flavors)

Customer: Or an energy drink. Yeah, I'd like a Gatorade and an energy drink.

Me: (eye is twitching by now) What kind?

Customer: "The blue kind."

Me: "There are two blue kinds. Light or dark?"

Customer: "Oh uh, dark. And an energy drink please."

Me: (the eye twitch must be obvious at this point) "We have four different kinds of energy drink."

Customer: "Oh um..."

Me: "JUST PICK YOUR G'DAMN DRINK ALREADY! YOUR INDECISION HAS CAUSED A LINE OF IDIOTS TO GATHER BEHIND YOU. I ASSUME THAT THEY MUST BE ATTRACTED TO YOUR IDIOCY. I HAVE THREE HOOKAHS TO PRODUCE AND FIVE COALS TO BRING OUT AND YOU ARE MAKING LIFE MORE DIFFICULT THAN IT HAS TO BE! PICK A FREAKIN' DRINK FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!"

Customer: "DARK BLUE GATORADE AND A MONSTER MA'AM!"

Me: "THANK YOU. NOW TIP ME ASSHOLE."

My job, if at all possible, would be even better if I could get away with shit like that. Make them cower at my presence. But that is just icing on the cake. Customers mostly get the automatic eye twitch when they ask questions about the menu. "What does the watermelon taste like?" Eye twitch. "Does the flavor come in the coal?" Eye twitch. "The Fahkfahkina is an apple right? So is it... appley?" Really? You get an eye twitch too.

I'm supposed to be talking about how fabulous my job is but now I'm just pissed.

Yay for having a day off.