I Really Hate My Job Page #6

their order" bullshit.

She looks so phony,

like everyone's

on the same level.

I think they're

eastern European.

That doesn't surprise me.

Why?

Well, Danny Huston

looks kind of...

well, like he's

from Vienna or Bucharest

in about 1921.

That's incredibly specific.

I've never believed time

was linear.

Huh. So when am I from?

Well...

Hmm.

What was I doing in 1953?

- Waitressing.

- Huh?

In Minnesota.

That's a terrible date.

Give me another one.

You can't argue

with my dates.

Please, guys,

don't congregate.

There's work to be done.

Abi, bottle of Pinot,

table two, please.

[Abi] Can I have some what?

[Madonna] Two cabernet

sauvignons, Abi.

- [Alice] Rita, the tarts.

- [Abi] Bream for number seven.

- [Madonna] Ten, Alice!

- [Suzie] Two tarts

for table five.

[Madonna] Abi, come on.

[man]

Just not eating that salad.

[Suzie] I'm sorry.

There's grit on the salad.

Ah!

Abi!

I'll take your glass.

Chop, chop.

Turn it down!

Ah! Aah!

Right. I need two steaks,

medium rare, table two.

Ally, please, not burnt.

Ah!

[Madonna] Are you okay?

Never better.

You hear the news, Madonna?

There is an eagle loose.

There was a warning

for everybody with small dogs

to keep them inside.

You read it?

No, I didn't.

And to be honest, Rita,

I don't quite understand

why you're... sharing

this information with me.

Because nothing happens

like you think it will.

I mean, you have

a little dog, right?

And everybody saying

how cute it is.

And then, whoa,

an eagle takes it.

Man and eagle in the city.

Nature's coming. Whoa!

Whatever, Rita.

[gasps]

Ohh!

Table two.

You know, that actually

looks pretty good.

You're a genius, Alice.

Let go.

[squeaking]

What's it like being you?

[Abi] Hey, Alice.

Can you give Danny's

musical grandparents

some fancy toast or something

on the house while they wait?

Danny's

musical grandparents?

Uh-huh.

- Why?

- P.R.

Don't mention P.R.

in my kitchen.

Whoo. Al, your kitchen.

Anyway, it's not toast.

It's bruschetta.

Don't call me Al.

- Ooh!

- Ooh!

Jesus, Abi, as if I haven't

got enough to do here.

[Abi] Come on. It's just

four bits of toast.

- Well, three at this point.

- Okay, okay.

If it'll shut you up.

You're an angel.

He is coming.

The Iceman Cometh.

Christ, it's hot in here.

Could you not pick, please?

I'm running out of everything.

Can you get us

some drinks in here?

Couple of Cokes?

Thanks.

Mineral water. Sparkling.

[Abi] Oh, come on, chef.

Go crazy. Have a Coke.

I've never had a Coke

in my life.

- Not even a sip?

- No.

But drinking Coke is like

getting your period.

It just happens.

Pepsi?

No.

Have you had McDonald's?

[scoffs]

But you smoke, right?

It's human nature

to be inconsistent.

[Rita] You know,

if every year you smoke

takes five years

off your life.

And I've

been smoking for...

That means I have lost

one hundred and...

ninety years...

off my life.

That means

I should have died in...

Which was...

I was born.

Which I didn't.

So why worry?

Take that. Go, go.

It's on the house.

[woman]

Oh, that's very kind.

[man #1] Why you

give people free toast?

Oh, um, we like to give it

to people who are waiting.

But we are

not waiting, are we?

Yes, you are, actually.

[woman] George,

Danny is coming.

[man #1] Oh, oh, yeah.

I'm sorry.

I'd forgotten, yes.

So why did you

break up with him?

I left him. I didn't want

to be around when he left me.

[rat squeaking]

[screams]

But-- but why-- why do

you give free toast?

Well, it's bruschetta.

It's kind of complicated.

[laughing]

Like rocket science.

That is such

an easy clich.

Clich? No.

It is metaphor.

[both screaming]

Actually,

it's not a metaphor.

Rocket science

is, literally, complicated.

Yet, as an expression,

it has become a clich.

[screaming]

- [screaming]

- Get it!

Can I get anyone

anything else?

- [man #1] No. We are fine.

- Yeah.

Oh, that was so disgusting.

Like a fat octopus

pouring itself

into a keyhole.

Abi, I think you and I really

need to have a talk later.

"Abi, I think you

and I really need--"

Abi, it's obvious that

you have personal issues,

but I really don't

think it's fair of you

to take it out on--

I will not dignify

this abuse with a reply.

- That was a reply, Jane.

- What?

Your friend

from school told me.

Told you what?

That she once knew you

as Jane.

I'll not dignify this.

[speaking German]

Do you have any idea

where my marzipan could be?

Abi, have you

seen my marzipan?

You think I'm fat?

That depends.

On what?

You're the type of girl

who's always too fat

because she always

thinks she's too fat.

It's like

your brain is fat.

I have a fat brain?

I thought you were

doing yoga to calm down.

Oh, it does calm me down.

But contorting my body

is not gonna get rid

of the wall-to-wall frustration

that carpets my f***ing mind.

Well, don't

take it out on me.

Okay. Okay. God.

It's like a f***ing

morgue in here.

You're such

a drama queen.

Did you just mutter at me?

You don't exactly encourage

people to speak their minds.

Okay. Fine.

I'm listening.

Talk. Talk to me.

What? What is it?

What do you want to tell me?

F***!

Abi, you're not

your best self tonight.

Is that breast milk I smell

on your gilded f***ing lips?

How much have you

drunk tonight?

Come on, guys.

We are really

not functioning

as a team here.

[Abi]

Fat brain. Fat brain?

[Suzie]

Yes, fat. Fat, fat, fat!

Okay, I need two ros and

three sparkling, please.

"...two ros and

three sparkling, please."

I got to go pee.

What is wrong

with her tonight?

I think she's going through

some kind of crisis.

She's always going through

some kind of crisis.

Doesn't mean it's any less

of a crisis, does it?

[pouring wine]

Do you have any idea

where my marzipan could be?

Oh. Table 12.

And two lemon tarts

for nine, please.

Abi.

Abi, are you okay?

I'm sorry.

I was mean just then.

[sighs] That's okay.

Two sparkling on seven?

I'm pre-menstrual.

Are you taking

evening primrose oil?

Yeah. I took some

in some vodka

before

I left home tonight.

Good.

Um...

[rattling]

Hi.

One minute of air.

Okay, one minute.

Old people are smug.

Musicians

are always smug, too.

Old musicians. What

a terrible smug combination.

Maybe they

are fantasists.

Danny is probably

in Los Angeles right now

having lunch

with a starlet.

- Is that still a term?

- What?

Starlet.

It's like, um...

It's like "kitchenette."

It's such a great word.

Oh, to be a starlet

with a kitchenette.

So why does this girl

in your book run away?

I don't know.

You have to have a clear idea

why things happen.

Otherwise, you are dealing

in generalities,

and the narrative

loses its punch.

But life has no plot.

And book is not life?

Books without plots

are boring.

I mean, is Anna Karenina

only the story

of a woman who threw

herself under a train?

Or is Ulysses

just about a day

in the life

of a man in Dublin?

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