Always Hungry America and Always Tired Me

I described in my last post how I moved from Poland to the United States a few years ago, giving up everything I knew to be with my American girlfriend Suzette. I had a hard time finding work in my area of expertise, and reluctantly accepted a job as a waiter at a local restaurant.

One of the difficult things about working at the restaurant was that I worked opposite hours from Suzette. She had a traditional 9-5 job at an office, so by the time she was getting home from work, I was just leaving for my shift, or had already left. I would come in late, around midnight, shower, and tiptoe quietly into bed so as not to wake Suzette. I tried to wake up early with her but was always so tired from working late, so I didn’t see her much in the mornings, either. We went from a long distance relationship to too much time together sharing a small personal space, to hardly seeing each other at all and living like roommates who shared a bed. I thought taking a job would be good for our relationship because it would show Suzette that I was committed to making our life in America work no matter what, and I could be a man and take care of her. Instead, it almost felt like we were further apart than when we had an ocean separating us.

I kept applying for work in my field, but still wasn’t even getting interviews. Suzette and I discussed moving somewhere that would have more opportunity for my career, but she had a good, stable job, and her family was nearby. We agreed it was best if I was patient and kept trying to find a good job locally.

I started to get depressed. I didn’t have friends in the United States, other than my coworkers at the restaurant. I barely saw my girlfriend. I missed my friends, my family, and my culture. I was terribly homesick and lonesome. I felt degraded, waiting on fat Americans at a restaurant when I had a degree from a university and should have had a decent job with benefits.

I started going out with my restaurant friends after work. A bunch of the servers would go to a bar or back to one of their houses after the restaurant closed, and drink and smoke pot and hang out. I was already coming home so late anyway form my shifts, Suzette didn’t even notice me coming in later and later, although she probably would’ve been glad I was making new friends.

It was at one of these gatherings at a fellow server’s house that things started to fall apart. Keep reading to find out how.