The Busboy Dilemma

There’s an interesting downside to being a busboy at a restaurant. I’m not talking about the insignificance of the position, nor the looks people give you as you come to clear an empty table, but the inner tearing up of one’s heart in regards to any sort of love for food said busboy once had. Remember, every time you cross a hurdle live gets more confusing, a little harder, and just a bit ridiculous.

In my experience, food is awesome. Right now I’ve got a bit of a tummy bug so I’m not eating much, but food heretofore has always been a joyous part of life. It isn’t anymore. Indeed, after busing I’ve got a new perspective on the hidden perspective of delectable art and it’s not promoting the endeavor very much.

Now that I’m a busboy, I spend part of my days shoveling food into a trash can. This practice, carried on for three or four hours straight, is slowly brainwashing me away from any sin of gluttony. Indeed, now that I see food in nasty heaps of gross for significant portions of my weekend eating isn’t the first thing on my mind. Before I got the job I chose eating as an enjoyable past time. Now that I’m subliminally associating all things edible with a dumpster, all things edible don’t register with the word “joy” anymore.

Yes, I know you’re thinking, “Is he high? Food’s the greatest thing since sliced bread!” Which is a very ironic thing that you should be thinking that. With this in mind, I’ve just remembered a parallel to my dilemma I read in a book somewhere…back when I read books.

Imagine a doctor. Physicians have so much knowledge from so much education on all things physical that they see the world very differently than the average, unridiculouslyeducated, individual. Moles or facial inconsistencies can look kind of cute. They’re small additions of individuality to a person. Yet to the doctor these little facets reveal more than individuality. Perhaps the doctor sees potential cancer or disease that has manifested in such a way.

That’s where I am. I can’t enjoy the beauty of food because I realize that somebody is going to mash it up and through it away. That it looks great on the plate but otherwise it’s rather unappealing. Perhaps I’m just caught up with myself. Maybe I’m too critical. I just know I probably won’t be becoming obese anytime soon.

~ by demo318 on May 16, 2008.