Life isn't fair

I tried to quit my job tonight and they wouldn't let me. I just wanted to go away and never come back, and they wouldn't let me. WTF?
I wait tables. I deal with the public. So, I deal with idiots all the time. And that's fine. I know there is no way my restaurant can control who comes through the door expecting food and service. But I have been under too much strain lately (more on why later) and tonight I just broke. I made less than ten percent of my sales in tips. In case no one knows, I am required by law to declare my earnings at a minimum of ten percent of my sales, and any tip I make with a paper trail must be included (like credit card tips). I am so tired of tourists and cheap assholes. I can't make my bills if this keeps up. So I told two of my managers tonight that I wasn't coming back.
They balked. They sympathized. They asked me to stay in very flattering ways. They offered me some time off (like I can afford it, and as if I wouldn't use the time to job hunt). Eventually, I conceded. I had to. I care about my job. I can't help it; I am a professional.
I know what you are thinking: Professional waitress? What? Yes, there are career waitresses out there. It is a good job with (normally) good money, flexible hours, and an honest living. It is hard work, and when a restaurant finds someone like me who takes the job seriously, they evidently want to keep me on. I know, you've been waited on by college students and stupid people your whole life, but if you were sitting in my section, I'd show you what service is supposed to be like.
So, yeah. They asked me to take Friday off, come back Saturday and talk to the GM. See if a day would give me some perspective.
It won't, but I said I'd do it. So I have to be in Saturday morning as if it were any other Saturday morning to discuss this crap. I think I will give them two weeks' notice. It's the only professional thing to do. And dammit, I am a professional. I have dignity. I do care about my job, whether I wantot stay there or not.


So, why am I extra strained right now? Sunday. Sunday is a black day. Anniversary of my brother's death. Let's get throught he usual questions, shall we?
Eleven years ago, July 23, 1995. It was a car accident. He was stone sober. I know because I was in the car. It was raining and slick on the road. He was the best friend I ever had and nothing will ever make it any better. Time does not heal grief, it just makes the time longer. And it has just been so long. I take one day out of every year to mourn and remember him as best I can, but this year, it is really hitting me hard.
I will get back to this later.