A dignified disgrace

Work. My coworkers mistake my crass indifference to being shy. I am there purely for the money and could not give a single fuck whether all of the customer’s needs are catered for. The contentment of random people and whether or not they will return do not matter to me, I am paid by the hour. It’s not that I’m playing coy by hiding in the kitchenette, it’s because I will not be made subject to the vulgarity of the excessively finnicky. I am clearly not suited to the hospitality industry, but so many are struggling to find employment, it’s difficult to quit. My faith in humanity has been diminished to dangerous levels, to the extent that I question my capacity to love and ability to maintain friendships. I’m not fucking shy. I’m the creation of the smile being inverted by the merciless weight of rude, disgruntled customers. I am a fellow human being. I’m not being paid enough to stand for this.