1.
I live in a second-line city. Such a definition of a city is always embarrassing, unwieldy and less civilized and less inclusive。
I'm just a cashier at one of the most common restaurants in the city. The place where i work is really a very small restaurant, with a few tables and plenty of benches, which the boss says are easy to see。
Our main camp covers food, noodles and fast food. Our restaurant is located in an alley behind the highest writing building in the centre of the city. The main caterers are salesmen in the vicinity of the mall, workers in the new subway and some half-wire white collars。
My job is to sit at the door every day, with a cash register, asking what you eat and what you drink, to take it away or to eat here, and to send out the corresponding rows and find the corresponding change。
At first glance there was no passion, but don't underestimate the job. Here, i can hear a lot of current news, hate and work. There are also many who cry while eating, or who, as newcomers, please their old colleagues and ask questions about lack of nutrition。
I've been here for five years, and next month i'm going back to the village to marry my boyfriend who's been in love for six years. I should never come back again, so i want to tell you here that i've met someone i remember most since i came to work here。
2.
There is a man who wears a pink polo every day, a white hat, which is already slightly yellow, with a dark brown bag at any time. Every day, he sent tourist leaflets at the entrance to a subway station in the centre of the city, and he always came for lunch at 2:00。
Every time he ordered pepper and liver, plus a bottle of spice, she always asked us to add salt. He said it would help with the detoxification. God knows if it's true. But the boss teaches us we can't disobey customers. He gives whatever he wants, as long as we have。
I don't know why. I always thought his name was zhao. And hiding deep stories. I don't dare ask. He would hardly tell anyone, except occasionally when the boss gave him a cigarette, and he talked a little。
I sometimes rest and see him passing by with a sincere face, and if someone loses it, he picks it up and sends it, and he never leaves his hand and pays for it. A lot of tourists saw him pick up the check and came to ask him for it。
When he came to dinner, i couldn't help but ask why he was going to pick up the slips he had lost, which would add to the workload, and why did the boss not know that he would be given more money because of it, and would end up being cut off。
He smiled at me with a simple face and said that i had a boy who lived with his wife in the country. I have no culture, no schooling or skills, but i have to go to the city to do this job, and i'm looking for it。
I told my son that i could see many tourists from beijing every day, rich people from shanghai. I can communicate with them every day, spread out to them, and let them know how beautiful our city is。
I made him think i was doing a very meaningful job, and i hope he knows that i am working very seriously for him. And i told him that it was important to be human and to respect what i had done, but if i had been perfunctory to myself from the beginning, i would have no sense in telling him anything, because i had not done it myself。
I am silent, i am humbled. That day, i sent him a bottle of sippie salt. He's grateful. But i haven't seen him for at least a week since that day. We don't even know where he went。
Then one day the boss told us that the shelby had committed suicide. Because his wife felt that life was too difficult, and even if she lived in the countryside, it was difficult to make her move. She did not want the child to suffer because of poverty, bought a bottle of enemy phobia, killed the child first, and drank the rest herself。
When he heard the bad news, the whole person cried in the middle of the day in the metro with leaflets. And the weather was particularly clear that day. He was sitting in the middle of a pile of scatterings, like a broken heart, which affected the roadmen around him and everyone followed him to beat。
He bought tickets to go home this afternoon, buried his wife and children and ended himself. The day we heard the news, we were shocked, even sad. After lunchtime, the boss shut us down for an old friend, who made himself a pepper pork gravy, and put it on the table, and we all took out our own pockets, bought him a spice, added salt。
Let's hope he's good. Good luck, old man。
3.
The other guy, a girl, i know her name. It's hard to get fat when you're too skinny. She works on the 17th floor next door. We don't know exactly what to do. I just think her lipstick is pretty good, one color a day, and she's got a nice little mouth. And she can say in particular that the mouth is always one and each of us。
We all liked her very much, and we always wanted to give her more weight, but she always turned her back. "i want to lose weight." i think she's a rich girl。
She occasionally comes to dinner with her colleagues. This is when she always buys you sodas and jokes. If i accidentally hear something, laugh with them, she'll have to play with me. On the whole, i think she's a beautiful person, without worry, without fear, with envy。
But one day she came for dinner, with a red eye. I'm sorry to ask you this, but she just squeezed and said, "ten dollars, no crotch." then you sit on our backs with a little table. During that time, her shoulders kept moving, and i think she had something sad going on. Then one of the most striking people is crying in this big place。
When i went to ask her a little less, it was concluded that she was going to be promoted and that her boyfriend asked her to marry. But she said she didn't think she'd understood her life, and then she cried. She said that she was not happy at work and that dating did not in any case feel that life was burning or even moving. I don't know how i live all these years。
I don't think i can understand her sorrow, or feel her sorrow, after all, i'm not her bright and bright. In this big-handed little restaurant, there's a lot of emotions, too many stories. What i can feel, and only from what others have shown me, is a reflection of what is in my mind. I don't have to read and understand. It's probably extremely limited。
After crying that day, she resigned and split up with her boyfriend and went to africa alone. She was wearing a black dress in the sahara desert, wearing lipstick, taking a photo and sending me a postcard. She wrote: i'm happy now, and thank you and i'm sorry that i let you see me cry, and i found my way, hoping i could be brave forever, and i didn't want to be a prodigal, but i was meant to be. Please enjoy your ordinary life. It's the most beautiful。
I'm sorry.
My whole life i can see the head without zhao's worries and happiness, and zhou xiaofang's paranoia and courage. Next month i'm going to get married and live a life that 98 percent of the world chooses, and i'm just telling myself, don't look back, it's a mess。
I'd like to quote them, even more in the future, in this small restaurant: gas, the cruelest place, always the most gentle dream. You have to be strong enough. Don't be a prodigy if you have the chance. No matter how big a wave, you'll always have your own beach。
Even such a simple restaurant with an ordinary cashier like mine. Everybody, value it。
The author's hairy girl
