4:07 P.M.
I get into work
And notice the annoying sounds
Maybe my boss is a jerk
I just pretend he�s not around
I hear the same songs on repeat
Over and over again
Incredible aching feet
Wonder when the day will end
Try to play high class
They try to offer more
But it becomes a pain in the ass
And you want to walk out the door
Let me paint a picture
I�ll tell you what it�s like
Some days are torture
While others are just too light
Tips set me apart
From the things that I deserve
Save money in my tip jar
Tips for what I serve
Why can�t I have in between
Why can�t the hostess find her flow
Maybe you don�t know what I mean
But what is there to know
My boss is so crazy
He doesn�t speak English
He thinks I am lazy
He always looks pissed
Work a double for me, yes?
Come in on your day off?
Like a child you regress
And pout when you�ve had enough
He speaks with an accent
And ignores what I say
Was that a statement
Did he just ask me to stay
Spanish, French or Spanglish
I still don�t understand
Working here in anguish
Working with these two left hands
The hours aren�t so bad
I can�t say I work too hard
It�s not the worst job I�ve had
But sometimes I feel like a retard
I swear I�m losing my mind
Not sure what my boss just said
I thought I was doing fine
Now obsessing inside my own head
Speckled with imaginary contusions
So busy, my body feels drunk
Kitty calls this place confusion
But I just think it�s bunk
By Kelly T
