All Anyone Wants is the Juicy Details

The only people that do not like an expose are the ones being exposed. If they could, everyone else would drench their pancakes, mix with Jaeger, or fill a bathtub and swim in all the juicy details that an expose gives. It’s why “To Catch a Predator” is one of Dateline NBC’s best segments or why TMZ is making Harvey Levin a millionaire when The People’s Court didn’t. People want to have things to get angry about or gossip to their co-workers the next morning at work. No one goes into work and says “hey, did you see the story last night about the cat that miraculously cures cancer patients by leaving a smelly present under their bed?” No, they’ll go into work and talk about the segment they saw where the news station sent a team of investigators to run a black light around a hotel room to illuminate as much bodily fluid as a Jackson Pollack painting (not that Mr. Pollack used bodily fluids to paint, but you get my point). Modern human nature thrives on negative news. I know it, you know it and even they know it. That’s why if you turn on your local news, more than half of the stories mentioned are negative. They’ve realized that although we hate to see how nasty the “SleepMor Motel” really is, we just can’t not look. We’re a nation of rubberneckers.
I suppose that’s what this blog is: an exposé. It’s an exposé, not necessarily of my personal employers, but of the restaurant industry as a whole. To sound more scientific, I really would rather like to call this blog the result of a very long social experiment. Most of what I write are generalizations of experiences and trends that I have been a witness to over the course of the past ten years. After maintaining this blog for two years and the thousands of responses I have received from friends and those leaving comments on the specific pages, I’ve noticed that my experiences are surprisingly not unique. After that length of time working in an industry that forces you to interact with hundreds of thousands of your fellow human beings every year, you most certainly tend to form opinions of them whether you know it or not. I suppose that’s why Steven Slater, that Jet Blue flight attendant snapped and quit his job in style. It seems that after 20 years of being crammed in an enclosed space 30,000 ft. in the air with 180 of his fellow human beings was too much for this working-class hero. I’m amazed that he could handle it for over 20 years, since I can barely stand being in an elevator with six of you for more than eight seconds.

No one really wants to be told “how it is” when it comes to things that they do or take part in. Sadly, we all want to see misery in the world, but if it doesn’t directly affect our personal bubble of reality, we say “oh, that’s sad” and move along with our lives. However, should the veil of self-righteousness be pulled aside and a mirror of truth be presented, almighty-personal-diety forbid that our behaviors impact others negatively in any way. Because as we all know, there’s no way me bringing an infant into a restaurant is going to negatively impact other customers.

I assume that’s why so many people got irate when I wrote about the subject of hot tea. Many people like hot tea, and although it can be a real irritation for a server to make, hot tea drinkers will defend their choice of beverage as if I had just accused their child of tripping mine during a K-5 soccer match. “It’s a part of (the game)/(your job)!  Deal with it!” See what I mean?

That’s why I like blogging. I use my constitutional first amendment rights to say whatever I want to say and whoever wants to read it can do so. You can write a blog, too, and I wholeheartedly encourage it. Unfortunately, you can’t stop anyone from reading it, too. Well, I guess you can if you just decide to shut it all down, but then to whom will you vent? Perhaps Mr. Slater would have kept his job if he had a blog. Well, at least until his superiors read it.

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