The book Nickel and Dimed was a refreshing easy read. With consideration to my workload for the semester I appreciated this small favor, however, nothing could have prepared me for the pages ahead. As I conceptualized this paper I was battling my criticisms and trying to keep an open mind. I ended my conceptualization feeling helpless and not knowing where to begin. Where better then the beginning? I was initially thrilled to read the things she was writing about serving in Florida. Not only because I live in Florida, but also because I am a drink and food schlepper myself. At first reading about the problems with customers and endless side work brought a smile to my face, but shortly my smile faded into something of a brooding disposition. Not only was I annoyed reading my trials and tribulations on the page, but also I was attempting to separate myself from the text and put it in a single woman/mom perspective (the assignment is my only reason for attempting to be unbiased which I am generally not very good at). It had never occurred to me that these downfalls of society not only afflicted me, but women in even less of a position beside myself. I find it hard to fully engage the contempt-ridden position these women are in. When dealing with an annoying customer I generally have a hard time letting it roll of. I cannot imagine being forced into such a submissive position because one desperately needs this 2-dollar tip to keep from living in her car. As she progressed up north to Maine I was pleasantly awaiting something better, as the author was herself. I too believed that the all white New England state would provide a better opportunity for this experiment. The maid work she was applying for seemed slightly more pleasant and less degrading. As she proceeded on with her experiment, I again grew ominous thinking of the looming omen of a feces ridden toilet or pubic hair ridden Jacuzzi she would come in contact with. The degradation suffered by
