​A piece I wrote and never extended upon, would like some judgement?

The music box’s just playing some soggy ass country music about some guy who cheated on his wife for a younger girl. Jesus, can’t men just love their wives. Well, I don’t actually care what they do, not my problem. The music is still stupid, like wtf, it’s the shit that make men cry into their beers and women roll their eyes at the men doing so. And me, I’m wiping the counter like some bitch slave, and it smells like old cigarettes and cheap alcohol. Sticky fingerprints, spilled drinks, ashtray dust – all smeared together like piasso’s art, like what did he even do. What do you mean blank canvas that’s millions worth, it’s worth my ass. I’m not even going to clean this, I should, but I don’t give a shit. It’s bad enough I do the dishes. And nothing stays clean anyways. And of course two guys are fighting over pool balls, ha “balls”, it’s like its nothing. One slams his stick so hard the glass behind me rattles. Somehow I flinched. I need a smoke break, like now, they wont miss me that much. Damn, look at this nasty crumbled cigarette, un-crumbled the piece of shit and light it with matches. I do what I want. Only because this is my last shift, I’m quitting, cant deal with this guy’s bullshit anymore. “Dani!”, oh god, what now, “get those men their fucking drinks”, fuck me, I cant even smoke in peace, this is what I mean by unfair treatment, god I’m tired. So I do what most people do. I pour them their drinks and take it to them. And of course they flirt with me. And obviously will a fifty-something man flirt with a 22 year old. Why not. pig! Clocks ticking. It’s 11:47, just three minutes left and I’m out of here. I go outside to find my cigarette I left on the brick. I take slow puffs, I should probably quit smoking, but well no I don’t wanna. Stress, am I right. I hate this place. Hated the smell from the start, the way it hugs my skin and hair, the way it feels like every night is a swamp. But, I also kinda love it. No questions, no expectations, just serve and serve I guess. Out there responsibilities wait for my ass, in here? just warmth. Me being another shadow. I throw my cigarette into the trash. Did not bother putting it out, Can’t do harm right? It’s 11:50, time to go now. I untie my apron, and put in under the counter. No one says goodbye, no one even looks my way, it’s fine, it’s not like I was their tender for 4 months.