When a baked potato was hard inside or a salad was flat or their steak wasn’t just the way they wanted it. They blamed me. Rather than the kitchen. Or they would ask me to light their cigarettes. Or chase flies from their tables. Or even take their children to the bathroom. Also. I had to contend with not only the customers but the kitchen staff as well. The cooks and busboys were often undependable and surly. If I didn’t treat them just right. I would wind up having to apologize to customers because their meals came late or their water glasses weren’t filled. Another reason I didn’t like the job was that I was always Moving. Because of the constant line at the door. As soon as one group left. Another would take its place. I usually had only a twenty-minute lunch break and a ten-minute break in almost nine hours of work. I think I could have put up with the job been able to pause and rest more often. The last and most important reason I hated the job was my boss. She played favorites with the waiters and waitresses. Giving some the best-tipping repeat customers and preferences on holidays. She would hover around during my break to make sure I didn’t take a second more than the allotted time. And even when I helped out by working through a break. She never had an appreciative word but would just tell me not to be late for work the next day.