My feet hurt but my bank account doesn't

So I’m officially a working woman now!!! Started waitressing at Spanky’s on Franklin Street this week and OMG you guys, I had no idea what I was getting myself into.

My feet hurt but my bank account doesn’t

Like seriously, my feet are screaming at me right now but I’m too proud to care because I made $67 in tips tonight and that’s MY money that I earned with my own two hands (and apparently my ability to smile while some frat boy asks if I “come with the meal” UGH).

The regulars are… an experience. There’s this one guy who comes in every Tuesday and always asks for extra ranch and always tips exactly $2.37. Like why that specific amount?? And don’t even get me started on the weekend crowds - Chapel Hill bros thinking they’re God’s gift to waitressing staff.

Tip money spread out like I’m a drug dealer or something

But honestly? Counting out my tips at the end of the night feels AMAZING. Like I’m actually doing this adult thing!

My manager says I’m getting the hang of it faster than most people and I’m trying not to let it go to my head but also… I’m kind of crushing this whole independence thing!

This is what dignity looks like apparently

Even if it means my dinner is Lucky Charms straight from the box because I’m too tired to actually cook.

Dinner of champions right here

Tomorrow I work a double but bring it on - mama needs her textbook money!