Peanut Shells

I work in one of those restaurants where you can throw peanut shells on the floor. You can come in and trash the place without any fear of being reprimanded. I can't blame them but it's hell to sweep up. I'm writing this on the back of a server's notebook in between forays to the tables. I work like Charon, ushering our patrons into empty graves due to high cholesterol levels. The country hits that are (over)produced just 20 miles to the west play on the jukebox, occasionally punctuated by Credence, Jimi and the DBT. I live for these 3 minutes of sanity during my work shifts.

The restaurant is located in sleepy Smyrna, TN where nothing much has happened since Sam Davis was hailed "The Boy Hero of the Confederacy". In 1982 a large Nissan factory was built here bringing in a plethora of jobs and now the population hovers somewhere around 30,000. Our clientele is made up mostly of old families and the trickle down from Nashville. Country music star wannabes and Nissan factory workers. I don't quite know how to classify Middle Tennessee. To the East are the Appalachian Mountains and although they are a different breed of hill folk than is found in my beloved Ozark Mountains they are hill folk nonetheless with a proud and distinct heritage. To the West is the Mississippi Delta and sweet, beautiful Memphis. I love this city and it's people and I hope to make it my home soon. So where does this leave Middle Tennessee? No man's land I suppose. "Dear Nashville, stop trying to dress your shortcomings up in fancy, rhinestone clothing and maybe we'll take you more seriously.Get back to your roots for God's sake. It's never too late." But I digress. I believe I was telling you about my job.

Working here has once and for all given me the motivation to go back to school. It's not that I hunger for money. I live happily on the little money I have right now. I am able to pay my bills, I never go hungry and I can afford to buy the books and music I want. I just can't stand the atmosphere. Quiet desperation and people turned old at the age of 35. Everyone is tired and burned out. Some of us have seen better days and some of us are still waiting for them to come. Dismal and bleak accurately describes my work environment. My mood is easily affected by those around me and working here has lowered me into a depression that I have to fight from following me home. Although I am looking for another job, I have to stay at this one right now because of those goddamn bills. They tell me I should consider myself lucky to be employed but they obviously don't know me very well. So I will be awash on a sea of peanut shells until further notice and for now I will find a moment of joy in watching a baby on a leash eating the shells off the floor in the lobby.