Dear Reader,

Sorry to be blunt, but: I hate you.

Or maybe, I love you.

Either way: I'm your waitress. You've seen me hundreds of times. I say hello, I introduce myself and explain to you how the specials work and even confess to you which dish isn't worth ordering. I refill your drinks, I wait till you're ready to order, I never ask you if you need change. I always smile, I pack up your food, I ask you where you work. I bring you a new fork because you dropped yours. I ask you how your food is. I bring back the yam fries you said were cold. I got you a discount when you were unhappy. I bothered the kitchen staff until they agreed to make sure your chicken wings were 'extra saucy'. I laughed at your stupid joke. I ignore you looking at my chest, or I make sure I look at you instead of your boyfriend who is looking at my chest. I clean up after your kid did god knows what to table 63. I pay your tab when you walk out.

You're fucking welcome.