Did I say “bitter”? I meant “better.” Honestly, I’m convinced that working in the service industry, especially as a server, truly enhances your character. I’ve spent years in various jobs within this field, starting at the young age of fifteen at a “Greek” chain restaurant called Sophia’s Kitchen, located in my local mall. The “Greek” label was a bit of a stretch; while we served Greek salad and had a Greek name, the rest of our menu was all-American twists on gyros—unless they do serve sweet-and-sour chicken gyros in Greece, which I wouldn’t know since I’ve never been there.
My first role was at the cash register, where I greeted guests, processed payments, and sold mouthwatering, oversized muffins from our display case. Picture a muffin in your mind right now, multiply that image by three, and then add a top even more magnificent. These muffins were a hit, drawing customers in for coffee and a sweet treat. Surprisingly, no one in Livonia seemed concerned about the authenticity of our offerings. The muffins became our secret weapon; if a guest was unhappy about their meal or service, delivering a giant muffin to their table could turn their frown upside down. “We apologize for the inconvenience; enjoy this muffin on us,” we’d say with a cheerful smile. If only resolving life’s issues were always so simple.
Once I hit sixteen and graduated from being a hostess to a full-fledged waitress, the real earnings began. Jo, our head waitress, was a timeless figure—somewhere between thirty and sixty—who was immensely supportive. She had a knack for making me laugh and always stepped in whenever I was overwhelmed, needed a breather, or was on the verge of tears in the back kitchen. Jo had been around for ages and seemed content with her role; she turned down a management position because, honestly, being a waitress meant more money, less pressure, and plenty of smoke breaks. Plus, her seniority allowed her to dodge the less glamorous tasks like mopping floors or cleaning restrooms. We respected her too much to let her do the dirty work anyway.
In addition to our stylish, wrinkle-free polyester uniforms, we had name tags that displayed our names proudly. On the rare occasion someone forgot theirs, there was a treasure trove of old name tags hidden beneath the cash register, allowing for a bit of fun and creativity. Some days, I was a Carol; other days, I became a Nancy. Curiously, I was a more attentive server as Carol than as Nancy, who was more interested in taking smoke breaks and rushing through my shift. Unfortunately, wearing a random name tag sometimes resulted in missed calls for service, which reflected poorly in my tips.
My time at Sophia’s Kitchen was filled with memorable experiences. I learned all sorts of valuable life skills, including the art of pretending to clean a bathroom and how to subtly adjust a salad when a customer complained about too much dressing. Thankfully, during my stint in the late ’90s Midwest, we didn’t face the dietary restrictions that are common today. Nobody was gluten-free or vegan; they just wanted their BBQ pork gyros and a muffin to-go.
My next venture in the food service world brought me to a restaurant called Bella Notte in Chicago. I was a college freshman working at a retail store that I disliked but needed for the schedule flexibility. After getting banned from customer interactions for being too honest about how clothes looked, I found myself in the stockroom, attaching security tags to garments. One day, I met two charming guys on motorcycles who encouraged me to apply as a waitress at their restaurant. With little hesitation, I traded my retail job for this new opportunity.
Walking into Bella Notte was like stepping into a different universe. The ambiance was upscale, filled with well-dressed patrons sipping wine and enjoying fine dining. I felt completely out of my league in my casual attire. When the manager, Alistair, asked my age and I answered honestly, he promptly told me to come back the next day for training. I was both excited and terrified; I had no clue about wine service or the intricacies of fine dining. But I soon adapted, and the camaraderie among staff felt like a family. We pooled tips and shared nights out after work, laughing and enjoying life together in a way that felt exotic compared to my college experiences.
Eventually, as all good things do, my time at Bella Notte came to an end. With the restaurant slowing down and new places opening in town, I refocused on my studies. There was a hiatus before my next restaurant job at Stardust, a nightclub known for its vibrant atmosphere. I quickly realized that cocktail waiting was not my forte; I struggled to navigate the crowded dance floor with drinks in hand. After a few disheartening hours, I found my manager and asked to quit. Luckily, a coat check position opened up, and I discovered that crawling under racks of coats was more manageable than dodging drunken patrons.
In summary, my journey through the world of waiting tables has taught me invaluable lessons about hard work, resilience, and the importance of community, leaving me better prepared to face life’s challenges. For even more insights into parenting and personal growth, check out this related post.
For those interested in exploring family planning options, this reputable retailer provides at-home insemination kits that can assist you. Additionally, the CDC offers excellent resources for understanding pregnancy and home insemination.
Summary:
Working in the service industry can significantly enhance your character. Through personal experiences, from a mall restaurant to fine dining, I learned valuable life skills, the importance of camaraderie, and how to navigate various challenges. My journey shaped me into a more resilient person, ready to tackle whatever life throws my way.
Leave a Reply