Tweedle Dim Sum and Tweedle Dum Sum

Take everything you know about horrible bosses, not the movie, but the real life kind that you can’t comically kill off and earn MTV movie award nominations with, and then just throw it out the damn window.

Or better yet, roll it all up in some seaweed and sticky rice, and maybe sprinkle some wasabi mayo on top.  Then serve it to your worst enemies, and laugh maniacally while waiting to go home so you can weep about how your life didn’t really quite turn out the way you wanted it to.  That seems like a much more appropriate metaphor to the life I have unfortunately chosen for myself.
I work at a high-ish end sushi restaurant, where I serve underneath the tyrannical hand of a 5 foot tall Asian woman with an undecipherable Mandarin accent and a god complex.  She flutters around the restaurant, her eyes legitimately focusing on two different things at once like a ninja chameleon while she scans the dining room for something mundane and unnecessary to argue with someone about.  She sneaks up behind you while you are doing something like windexing the fish tank and quickly tears you apart for standing funny, and then disappears behind a fake potted bamboo plant before you even have the opportunity to get your bearings.  You can hear her child size high heeled shoes click clacking across the linoleum from the other side of the restaurant, and it makes your sphincter clench up immediately, much like the way a Vietnam veteran with PTSD must feel when he hears a car backfiring in his neighborhood.
I should rewrite this.  Because I use the word “you,” although there is a pretty good chance that if you worked  there, “you” would not be victim to her attacks.  I would rewrite this, but I’m tired and my stomach hurts because I forgot to eat again today.  So instead, just reread this and put “I” or “me” in place of “you.” Thanks.
This woman, who, for obvious reasons since I still make a decent amount of money there, I will refer to only as “Tweedle Dim Sum,” hates me.  I honestly have no idea why.  I’ve never really done anything to upset her, except be not Asian, but the other caustic white folk I work with seem to get along swimmingly with her.  I am her beating stick, the one with which she releases all her pent up Asian restaurant owner anger.
Like a horrible and poorly received circus side show, there is a part two to this unfortunate equation that has managed to become my life.  While Tweedle Dim Sum might have a reasoning behind her madness, that being the fact that she has a business to run and is your stereotypical Asian perfectionist, her partner in crime, Tweedle Dum Sum, seems to release her rage on me for the sole purpose of making my life miserable.  She is Tweedle Dim Sum’s best friend, and in all technical aspects is nothing more than a server, like myself.  But she has known Tweedle Dim Sum for the majority of her life, so is, of course, held in a much higher regard than everyone else, especially me.  She is the kind of time waster that will go completely ape shit over absolutely nothing, like the one time she called me an asshole because another server wouldn’t stop talking to me.  She is more of a terror than the big boss lady, because her anger is typically unprovoked.
For a short period of time, I had an issue with Tweedle Dum Sum that made me realize that there was a large bottle of Aspirin and an even larger bottle of vodka in my very near future if I put up with their nonsense for much longer.  But then I had an epiphany.  The crap that I deal with on a daily basis, if explained to someone who wasn’t there to witness it, is just plain funny.  That whole adage about laughter being the best medicine is very true, and I decided to drive my head through the days there like a battering ram through the door of a well known meth lab.  It seemed to make the days go by a little smoother, and suddenly, I was taking immense pleasure in their acts of vengeance on me.
I decided to write this blog as a reminder to most that no matter how shitty your job might be, you could always have it worse.  You could, after all, be me.
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