Perils of assimilation

If only life came with subtitles.

Sunday, August 26, 2007

Restaurant Eyes

I am sick. It's not a cold, or the flu. It's my eyes. No, not pink-eye.

I can't shake my restaurant eyes.

There is certain way of looking when you work in a restaurant. You must cast your gaze on the floor exactly twelve feet ahead of you, not blinking, eyes partially closed. You don't look anyone in the eye, but rather focus on a spot just to the right. There is never anything in the foreground, it is all background. Nothing stands out. You can evade any obstacles while still paying attention to the movement around you.

This is a great technique for work, but not for the outside world. I am having problems reading because it all blends together. I rely greatly on my sight, but my eyes have become apathetic to what is aroud me.


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