Mystery Beer Persuasive Speech

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Mystery Beers were the drink special of the night. I like Mystery Beer night, because it’s the easiest portal into the land of table banter. That’s what I love most about waitressing: table banter. The universe usually gifts some launching pad of mutual conversation: the heavy rain last night or Ryan Lochte or the new pizza special. But especially, Mystery Beer. You say that it’s $2.50 and they say “Is there a way the mystery beer could be a Sweet Josie?” and you shake your head solemnly and say “Sorry, there are rules in this world about mystery.” But you end up bringing them a Sweet Josie anyways, pulled from a giant cooler of beers the bartender wants to get rid of. And then you feel like some greek god blessing the masses with their…show more content…
They were both about fifty, but the kind of fifty year olds who wear trendy glasses and read The Wall Street Journal and because of this, believe this excuses themselves from the possibility of chauvinism. They probably have daughters in middle school; they probably have at least one tattooed college relic or wish they had one. I know the type. They are always going out for beers together, always friendly; but the dialogue will also skim the surface of sexism; will always contain the threads of a bygone generation. The kind of men who watch Mad Men and think “Don Draper is really shitty to his secretaries” but use the same indulgent tone with younger women. I want to tell these kind of men: this isn’t Car Talk. I’ll table banter, but I won’t ask for your permission about how to fix my life. If, indeed, it needed…show more content…
That’s why I have three jobs.” This might have sounded testy, but I had already told them before that I had three jobs. That day I had worked two jobs; they were witnessing hour thirteen. “Good for you, good for you. Write a poem about computer programming, maybe.” I didn’t really mind too much. I’ve only waitressed since the beginning of the summer, but I’ve worked enough jobs since early high school — a meandering litany of coffee shops, a publishing company, a rabbit farm, an herbarium, giving tours, you name it—that involve having a thick skin. I do think it’s funny that people want to give me advice about the way the world works when I am serving them burgers with a side order of garlic fries, but okay. This is life, and we’re somewhere on the same page (a big newspaper page with a lot of opinions, but still, the same page). It is going to be hard. I don’t expect wanting to do something like writing to be easy in a tight economy full of young, gifted people. I don’t think I deserve some enchanted arrival at any point, and that’s why serving Mystery Beers is perfectly

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