It was bad enough cooking your meals and doing your laundry everyday

When will I not have to hear old men telling me I should smile? Probably not till I'm old too and they no longer give a crap because my tits will be too saggy. This bus driver the other day acted like I was all depressed, just because I got on the bus and started feeding my money into the machine. I'm not exactly animated on my way to class in the morning. Or any time I ride the bus alone, for that matter. I'm sorry, your bus isn't really that exciting, and your conversational tactic is severely lacking.

I also get this from older male customers at work sometimes. Obviously, as a counter girl, a certain amount of good cheer is expected of me, but if I get a bad vibe off an old guy, I'm definitely not going out of my way. I'll be polite, but that's it.

A significant part of the problem, it would seem, is that my neutral face tends to look like a hostile face to strangers. But that doesn't make it okay for older men to take this condescending attitude toward me, like I somehow owe them a smile. If I have to whore my smile out for a five cent tip, you can take your quarters and shove 'em.

Hell, I can't even tell whether or not I actually smile enough to most customers at all, nevermind creepy old men. I must do something right though, since plenty of people, especially young guys, seem to respond well.

The next feminist revolution should involve us taking back control of our smile.

So If I Were Ugly, It Would Be Alright To Be Unpleasant?

The other morning, these two guys came in to get breakfast, like many before them. One of them ordered and waited for the other to order. The other man, however, was apparently too busy talking on his phone, standing first inside and then wandering out. When he finally hung up and deigned to acknowledge to me, it was only to make me wait even longer while he first found the menu (which seems to be very difficult for most people, even though it's right there on the fucking wall) and then tried to figure out what he wanted. Now, all of these things are not necessarily gauranteed to make me dislike someone; I've been realizing more and more how almost everything depends on the individual. Something that makes me hate one person is more forgivable in the next. My opinions about my friends' ex-boyfriends vary, even though the break ups are all very similar. You get the idea.

So saying, maybe with another person I would have been less irritated, but something about this guy just pissed me off to the nth degree. Especially when, after I had rung him up and was waiting for him to pay, he said, "Oh! So beautiful, and yet so serious!" in very lilting accents. Not sure I understood, I said "Uh, what?" and he said it again, only formed as a question. Out loud, I said it was rather early in the morning and inside my head I yelled about what an annoying douchebag he was. I was pretty much fuming by the time he finally left.

In high school, in the English class from hell (Advanced Placement with a bipolar crab of a teacher), we read an essay about why women smile. The point the writer was trying to make was that women are always expected to wear this pleasant mask, that doing so allows everyone else to be at ease. I managed to find it on google here: http://www.smartercarter.com/Essays/Cunningham%20-%20Why%20Women%20Smile.htm

It's very well written, and I only wish I could get my thoughts and opinions out half so well. At any rate, what that man said perfectly exemplified the point here. Even more so, since his implication was that being beautiful requires me to be cheerful and pleasant. The aforementioned essay claims that the image of the perpetually smiling woman is particularly American, and that women in other countries are less likely to smile without genuine reason. I thought it was funny when she mentions American fast food franchises trying to open up shop in Europe and finding it nearly impossible to get workers over there to smile the way they do here.

I've noticed this before, especially when looking over the reviews on yelp. Many people go into cafes and restaurants expecting the cheery, bubbly barista or waitress, and their tips often depend on how much she kisses their ass. I say this all the time, and now I send it off into the internet: Excuse me, sir, for not kissing your ass, I couldn't quite get past the enormous pole stuck up it.

Please, quote me on that. And please, creepy middle-aged men, you're not going to regain your youth by the insincere smile of your cute server-girl. And if she fails to deliver said smile, more than likely it's because you're not worth wasting it on.