Don’t Tell Me What To Do

So I’m back on the Internet. During my week-and-a-half long hiatus caused by moving to a new apartment and not being able to get any mail or packages delivered to that new apartment, I voted, saw most of my choices win, broke up with my boyfriend, got back together, made Brussels sprouts a few times, and saved someone with the miracle of marijuana.

But first, let’s talk about TODAY. Today I sold my van!

I am feeling so sad right now. This beautiful van transported Ben, Koala, and I safely across the United States to our new home. And now it is gone to a new owner, for less than half of my asking price and with my license plates, because I’m a pushover. Bye bye, vannie.

Here’s another thing: I’m worried I might have a job I don’t want and didn’t even apply for! My boss asked me if I wanted to work a shift a week as a busser at his other restaurant, which is a very expensive fine dining Italian restaurant downtown. I was flattered and excited to see the restaurant, but had a horrible experience during my training shift tonight.

The shift starts with hauling all the trash out to the dumpster about a block away, rain or shine. Sometimes there’s two or three loads. It’s the kind of fine dining restaurant where the servers are good at selling and the bussers do the dirty work. The guy who was training me continuously circled the tables like a hawk ready to refill a water glass after every sip. The servers laughed over pictures of dogs on their iPhones. I spoke middle school Spanish to the dishwasher and danced alone in the bathroom. I have worked as a hostess and a waitress, and I’m fine with both of those jobs, but bussers bust ass!

I don’t know how to turn down a job that I didn’t apply for, when the owner of that restaurant is my boss right now. I don’t want more money. I don’t want to diversify my restaurant experiences. I just want to continue working at my funny kiddie pizzeria and have fun.

Seattle is having a weird way of telling me what to do. I never put the van up for sale. A month ago, Ben and I met a guy from Craigslist to buy a bike. The guy fell in love with the van and has been texting and calling me about it ever since. Today, I finally gave in. The van wasn’t at all a practical vehicle–it’s huge and rattly and unwieldy, not great for Seattle roundabouts, and I couldn’t even drive it–but it was actually pretty economical. The car insurance was super cheap because it was so old and I got as good gas mileage as I got on the Lumina. But I didn’t want to pay to transfer it over to a Washington registration, and I didn’t want to have to pass that California emissions thing, so bye bye, vannie.

Then there’s this job being handed to me that I didn’t ask for, and the journalism prospects I hear about from customers at the restaurant. Are people friendlier in their talk here, more quick to offer (though not necessarily to give)? Nothing really has come to fruition yet, except of course for selling the van at much below its asking price. Is Seattle trying to control my life? Or is this just destiny?

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About Emily Suggests

Pineapple rock, lemon platt, butter scotch. A sugarsticky girl shovelling scoopfuls of creams for a christian brother.

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