A poem by jessika cesilia. Title is shared after the entry.
What if I live in the United States?
What if I’m a server?
What if English is my second language?
What if others think they can use this misjudgment to weaponize their narrative around me?
What if my coworkers don’t like the way I look?
What if I don’t feel comfortable walking out of a tipped position?
What if you must wait for another employee to “tip you out”?
What if I’m afraid of being accused of stealing company money?
What if I’m afraid of being verbally held hostage?
What if I’m physically held hostage?
What’s the difference?
