Professional American Food Server’s Guide to Canadian Emigration

Because foreign countries don’t want us, we must seduce their citizens

As a professional food-server, you may have overly-developed skills in balancing trays and tasks, speed-walking daily for hours and miles, anticipating needs, timing, assessing a table’s levels of seriousness and joviality while managing the emotions of everyone around you. Despite your ability to do what daily feels like a battle to near-death, you don’t really qualify as a skilled worker. As far as the categorization of skilled workers goes, you fall into class five, which is the lowest class.

Fret not, though. I’ve watched enough news and episodes of 90-Day-Fiancé to know in my heart that there is no greater love than the desire to leave one’s country. Since I’ve had this plan to be in British Columbia the first week of June for a vacation with my sisters, I’ve decided to start cramming steps to Canadian love in the same way the kids are writing their term papers these days: I’m using AI.

Dating for the purpose of immigration would seem to be the opposite of relaxed and casual, but because of your experience in high-pressure high-volume environments, i.e. a Valentine’s Day dinner rush, you know how to mask your true feelings in any situation. Giggle and smile your way through his or her politeness, even though your pointy American heart is craving a good neg. Go on as many Canadian dates as you can, and be what each one has always been looking for. It’s not hard to do. This is life or death if you want to escape your home which is swiftly becoming the axis of evil.

I’m struggling with this one and wonder if anyone can parse out what exactly this is saying. What would “dating as gentle feedback” mean? Going on a walk in a park and holding hands is my indirect way of saying I love and want to marry you? Extended eye contact over a milkshake is my message to you that I will pull you up into the forest with me away from the daily sonic booms of Billionaire Space Mountain? Let’s hope so.

Harmony and politeness might sound alarming on an interpersonal level, considering your American grip on rugged individualism and the holy grail ultimate goal of becoming an iconoclastic disrupter, but remember you’ve been training for this all of your life. Your cells have reconstructed your entire body into a harmonizing machine as far as other people go. You have no needs. Hell, you can completely forget that your bladder is full for hours on end if enough tables need enough things from you. You will remember you’re in a human body once that last check is dropped. How hard can it be to sit in a cold hockey rink and smell the stale beer smells for a couple of hours if it guarantees you won’t have front row seats to watching your own country disintegrate around you? You’ve got this, kid. Let’s go, Canuks!

No. This is bad. They have to think no one is going to love them like you love them. Play that Maps song at a very low nearly undetectable volume whenever you are in their presence (maybe have earbuds loose in your purse).

The particular reason is that you have been hypnotizing them with that song.

Okay, everybody, rev up those Tinder profiles. We are getting out of here.