TRAPPED!

TRAPPED!

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By Allison Torresi

Of course we all feel trapped when were at work. Knowing there’s absolutely nowhere to go until that clock strikes, well… 4am for me. Besides dealing with the unending clock and obnoxious people, the most caged feeling is when you are stuck in a situation and physically cannot escape it.

I will always cover anyone’s shift that needs it because I love to make money and I believe in the good karma that will inevitably come back around. Let’s hope, at least.

Covering for people is good and bad because you see what other shifts are like but you also meet new regulars that only come on those days. Cue the caged animal syndrome.

Two business type men are throwing back Ketel and sodas and snickering at my every move. The drunker they become the more vociferous their remarks become and the more agitated I become that I have to listen to it. Every single action is bait for a comment…I just hear them tear me apart piece by piece. From my body to the fact that I must be an animal in bed and all the gross things they want to do to me. What gives guys the right to act like this? Because you have a powerful career you think that means you have the right to overpower everyone around you and talk to people like sh*t? I don’t think so, cupcake.

The worst part is my bartender that night, knows them. After I keep running away from them and enduring whatever comments I must, he comes over…I thought…to rescue me. But, no. Instead he came to buy them a shot and get all chummy with them. Apparently they come in every week when the two guys usually bartend together. “What happened, had to bring in a Cinderella to do the other guy’s job?” They laugh and hifive about it…which is just stupid, but whatever. Cinderella? Am I really a poor peasant girl that doesn’t know her own worth? I’ve been bartending twice as long as the other kids here so keep your comments to a minimum a**hole. Sadly, there’s nothing you can do and that’s one of the worst feelings about my job. I’m simply a Barbie doll with a bottle. I just want to walk out the door and tell myself I don’t deserve this sh*t, but I’m stronger than that and I endure the crap. Moral of the story is… stick to your own shifts, huh?

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