I trace this as one of the first time my vocal chords woke up, disobeying The Man meant obeying My Inner.  The regular cocktail waitress had broken her fingers, so they hired me as a temp. I was great as a dinner waitress, chat chat smile smile, but had to learn fast for drinks since the bar scene was never my scene.   What I lacked in speed or cool I made up in absurd flirting or clever banter which customers seemed to enjoy.  On this particular night my funked up Jane Fonda gear didn’t please the owners — they told me to go back and change to my dinner dress, that the private party was too conservative.   It was his tone of voice that triggered me;  I calmly handed him back the night’s bank and said “No Thanks.”  It’s been my first and only I Quit — it felt great.  Somewhat of a P.S., ‘Touche’:  a few years later when Alive magazine included me in the Buzz list, i was pictured a page away from the same bar owners who told me to take a hike for being creative.   Smiling at them through a page of glossy felt like just rewards, not that Alive means ‘arrived’ – just that somehow we were publicly lodged as equals when based in their behavior, that was definitely not their experience of me.