Today started off light. I dropped a comment on Rosa saying I was super horny and needed to have sex. She was completely thrown off guard.
“Freyja, you are so vulgar,” she said. “I am shocked. I thought you were a church girl! But no, you ah crazy!”
She kept repeating that I was crazy, though I haven’t even revealed level one. She thought it’d be fun to add some drama into the workplace through me which I had no problem with.
“You should give Ollie ‘the eyes’ when you go downstairs for lunch. Like this—“
“You don’t have to show me,” I said.
She then proceeded to message him, letting him know my loins were on fire. Right before I left the room, she goes, “You know what to do.”
It was the first time I looked at him in a sexual way and he seemed in shock over it. He kept giving me this look like, ‘Are you hitting on me?’ I continued to eye-fuck numerous times, making sure to stare him down slowly as if he were the one I was going to pounce on. I had to restrain my laughter the entire time. I knew it was childish of me, but I didn’t feel too bad doing it since he’s been playing the asshole role. Figured I’d play one back in the best way I knew how.
Ollie was actually nice to me in the kitchen. He placed his hand on my lower back, holding it there for several seconds while I washed my dish. His kindness was short-lived so I took it while it lasted.
I went to put on my uniform and a couple of moments later, I walked into the kitchen to set the lunch slips down on the counter for us servers to work on later on in the night.
Ollie snapped, “You guys deal with that shit on your own time! I’m not doing that for you.”
I knew that was my job, never once having made a comment he had to take care of it.
Just before dinner service I met a couple of older women who were asking about some wine. Their names were Derora and Toria. Derora was originally from Israel and Toria from Portland, Oregon. I really liked the way Derora looked into the depths of my soul when she talked to me. It was as if she was listening to my heart, even when the topic had nothing to do with it. I knew she had to be a healer of some sort.
They happened to be one of my tables for the night. We were all very enthralled and drawn to one another’s energy, feeling we could talk to each other for hours. I wanted to know more about their minds, their insights, their struggles. I was sure if it were meant to be, our paths would align to spend more time together.
Derora felt like she wanted to try a little bit of everything on the menu. I didn’t blame her since it was all included.
“Can I get a ribeye for the main entry and a small side of the pasta with shrimp?” she asked.
“Of course,” I said, then walked over to Armor and said, “Chef (just saying his title made me cringe)…” I began to explain how she wanted a small side yada yada yada.
“Pass the information over to Ollie and he will pass it over to me,” he said.
I turned my head a few degrees. “Ollie,” I started, then said the same exact thing even though Armor was standing 2’ away from him and could hear me.
Ollie started raising his tone. “I don’t understand what you need.”
I slowed down my speech. “She just wants the ribeye and a small side of the pasta with shrimp.”
“What?!”
“Ribeye with—“
“No, no, no! I know what she wants. I don’t understand what you’re saying. There’s already pasta in the shrimp. Repeat it again!”
“I don’t know how I could be more clear,” I said, having repeated myself 4 times now.
When I went to say it again the fifth time, Armor put his hand up to my face and said, “Stop talking.”
I put the appetizers I had in my hand and placed them on the table. My entire body began to vibrate and shake. I asked Chip if he could please finish up with my tables as I needed to go to the bathroom. I felt I was about to have some level of a panic attack. I tried calming myself by telling myself I did nothing wrong, I was just relaying info. I noticed the way I dreaded it when Armor told me to speak to Ollie. I usually avoided saying anything to him because I couldn’t stand not knowing what version of him I would get. It’s as if he was always on the verge of screaming at me. It felt like it took all of my courage to find my voice and when I finally did, Armor told me to stop talking. I felt like I was being toyed with.
So, I ran into the bathroom and cried on the toilet. I began hyperventilating, so I went into the office so as not to not hold up space. After 15 minutes of it getting progressively worse, I went upstairs hoping my roommates would comfort me. I was in such a panicked state and unable to catch my breath that I think I scared both of them from the intensity I was showcasing.
Rosa attempted to comfort me by reminding me that it was “not personal” and that it was “just work.” Yet to me it felt as if a past trauma had just been activated.
She had me take deep breaths to calm myself down, then said, “New rule for this room. When you come in, you are not allowed to be sad. When you walk through this door, you leave that world behind. No tears are allowed here.”
I stared at her in disbelief.
Who am I supposed to lean on when I’m hurting?
Who is going to comfort me in times of need, when I am asking to be felt?
Right then, I noticed the gift of my two roommates acting seemingly afraid/uncomfortable around me. I felt that, maybe part of all this rejection I’m experiencing is to be taking these feelings and thoughts of death to God.
I wiped the tears and Rosa told me not to show anyone I’ve been crying. “Keep it professional,” she said. “Keep on keeping on.”
“My eyes are bloodshot red.”
“Allergies, say you have allergies.”
These people are starting to trip me out. Why do we have to lie about the human experience of pain that we are all apparently going through? To me that’s not authentic to act like I was not just crying for an hour and a half and in denial that I would actually love some emotional support.
I went back downstairs and into the bright kitchen. My eyes were welling up again. The anxiety was at an all time high. There was no way I would be able to finish up with my tables. I walked past Armor and he stuck his arm out in an attempt to stop me and get me to lock eyes with him.
“Freyja,” he said.
“It’s okay,” I said, wanting to drop the topic.
I walked through the dining area and into the lobby to see if I could do anything other than talk to people since my eyes were visibly swollen. Then, Elian spotted me.
“Oh, Freyja,” she said as she came in to hug me. “I don’t know what happened, but he’s sorry.” She noticed I was a wreck then told me to go sit down and take some time. I bawled my eyes out for at least another half an hour. “What happened exactly?” she asked. “Armor had come up to me and said, ‘Elian, I blew it. Please go find Freyja and make sure she’s okay.’”
I didn’t want to get into it. I just wanted to lay in my bed and scream into my pillow. Not sure why they didn’t just let me off as all I did was get paid to cry.
“Is there anything I could do other than talk to customers?” I asked.
“Yeah, why don’t you bring the cookie tray back to the kitchen and start wrapping them,” she said. “And take a cookie while you’re at it.”
Armor tried again to approach me when I was in the kitchen. “Freyja, Listen, I am truly sorry.”
I deflected. “It’s really okay, don’t worry about it.” The harshness in my eyes said otherwise.
“Well, that is very kind of you for saying that. But I still want to apologize to you.”
When service was officially over and I was polishing dishes, he came back a third time, this time in front of Elian.
“Again, Freyja,” he started, “I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve that. There are so many more ways I could’ve handled that and I didn’t mean for it to come across that way. I really sincerely apologize and hope you can accept my apology.”
I said, “I do and thank you.” I’m not sure I meant it. Certain things I had a very difficult time letting go of. I would often be replaying the scenes in my head until I got a better understanding of why people were the way that they were. “I’m just really sensitive.”
“I know and I know that so I will be more aware of it next time. And hey, you’ve been absolutely great. You’ve done awesome here.” He fist bumped me then joked, “Now that you work in the kitchen, it gives you permission to be a bully to those who don’t.”
“Why would I do that?” What the fuck? Shit is so weird to me how people think that is okay. This is what I mean by the weird energy games.
At the end of the night, I talked to Derora and Toria in the lobby. I apologized for having left them so suddenly. They were not phased in the slightest and were enjoying their time bird watching through the binoculars, already having spotted a ‘bird of prey.’
Before I went to bed, Elian stopped me to make sure I was feeling better. I said yes and that I just needed space to re-center. God, when did I become so fucking sensitive to tones and people in general? Feels like it hit me like whiplash. It seems when I am approached in a confrontational, non-loving way, my mind shuts off and I am unable to receive any further information or take in what is being said. I completely shut down. I feel that’s why I can really hear things when Mallory, Jayson and Elian talk to me because I’m being spoken to extremely softly.
“People told me that it’s pretty normal for chefs to be like this when it comes to working at a restaurant,” I said, as if I just had to get used to it.
“Well, it’s not normal here. That is unacceptable.”
She let me know I was taken care of and that she would have my back. In the end, I really appreciated that Armor at least apologized to me. Ollie, however, did not, and if anything acted more passive aggressive.