Empathy has its limits

I wonder why certain people hold this belief that the world is inherently a nice place.

It isn't.

Last week, me and my mates were at a bubbletea place, and one of the waitresses dropped a box filled with little somethings. Because the world has laws (in this case, gravity) that oppress us and keep us from being happy individuals, the little somethings scattered across the floor. Nothing major, right? I mean, compared to contracting AIDS or meeting Hilary Clinton in person, this event really isn't all that traumatic. Right? Wrong.

The waitress immediately start crying. And when I say crying, I mean crying.

Okay, so you did it in front of all the customers. Maybe your house burned down that morning, your dog ate your grandmother and died of indigestion, and your boyfriend decided that Hilary Clinton's ass was more appealing than yours. So what. In the grand scheme of things, your little mishap did not matter. Like at all. You're gonna go through life facing a lot more shit (e.g. combustion of shelter, murderous canines, perfidious boyfriends, etc.). If you're going to shed tears over every little injustice you suffer, then you're better off dead. Because really, eternal rest is a far better choice than spending half your paycheque on Kleenex.

So maybe it's my misanthropic nature talking. But really now, crying over spilled little somethings? What would your mother say?

p.s. one of my friend's actually felt like crying after seeing the aforementioned waitress cry. i'm not even gonna go there.

p.p.s. keep in mind that this waitress didn't really look like the damsel in distress type. she had the make-up, the tight jeans, the whole nine yards. she looked like she was serious business. that probably made me want to ridicule her more though, har har har.