Pride In My Work

Every table of people is different. Some want to be left alone and treat you like some sort of lower class hired help, some need constant attention and still treat you like lower class hired help, sometimes you're just invisible, and others want entertainment and human interaction. They'll joke with you, flirt, tell you about their lives, or, in most cases, ask about your life. You learn to form a standard story to feed to people, and interesting things happen when, due to human nature, the barrage of questions deviate from what you're used to answering.

They always start off the same, asking for your name, where you're from, what you're doing with your life. And since this one particular group of people were nice right at the beginning, I had no problem in being open with them. We talked every time I went to the table, so slowly my life story started to come out.

I told them where I'm from, what I went to school for, what I'm doing waiting tables instead of working a 'real job'. And then they got to the age-old question of "how'd you get here?"

Before I could answer, one of the men suggested: Boyfriend?

In my innocence and with a stunning lack of foresight, I quickly corrected without a second thought. Girlfriend. Meaning, of course, my female roommate that I've been friends with since college.

Suddenly the conversation changed.

"Oh, and this is such a good supportive place for you to be."

"Good for you."

"You know, we have a friend in Asheville who lives there with her partner, that's a pretty accepting community too."

And it didn't help when I mentioned that my girlfriend roommate and I are staying with her parents. They were even more excited about that, look at their waitress and her girlfriend living their lives like regular people! If they had been nice before, they were even nicer after the talk about my imaginary girlfriend, so excited about having a gay waitress, even going so far to leave a very generous tip and making sure to tell me goodbye as they left.

And that, my friends, is how I accidentally made four senior citizens think I'm gay.

Brief snippets from a day at work

Me: Hi how are you guys doing today?
Lady: I'll have iced tea.

Me: Hi how are you guys doing today?
Lady with four menus laid out on the table in front of me: There's going to be four of us, I'm waiting on some people.

Man 1: Yeah, what do you have on tap?
Me: Well, we have a lot, so the drink menu is right here, they're all listed on the last page.
Man 2, who is sitting directly across from Man 1: What beers do you have on tap?

Me: How's everything tasting?
Man: Napkins.

Me: How's everything tasting?
Lady: Can we get bread?

Man: Yeah, um, we'll order two oysters to start.
I bring two oysters on the half shell. The people at the table look confused.
Man: Oh I meant two dozen, my bad.

I work in a town known for their oysters, we get them fresh every day and, as it says on the menu, local.
Man: Are your oysters really local?

Me: Can I see your ID?
Man: *hands me his credit card*

Woman with the menu directly in front of her: What fish do you have?

Man: *stops me as I'm passing by on my way to another table* Do you have bread?
Me: Yeah.
Man: Thanks.
Um okay I guess that means I should get you some bread

Lady as I walk up to the table: Well, last time I didn't know and I almost died so I'll ask.
Me: You have questions about the menu?
Lady: Is the fish fried with shellfish?
Me: Yes, the fish is fried in the same oil as the oysters and clams.
Lady: I'm allergic to those, but I'm sure it'll be fine, can I have that please?

Lady after witnessing me carry a heavy tray full of food up a flight of stairs: Wow, do you have to bring everything up the stairs yourself?

Man: What's your favorite thing on the menu?
Me: The tuna.
Man: Is it really or are you just saying that?

Lady: I had this strawberry mojito the other day that was absolutely fantastic, do you have anything like that?
Me: No, we just have regular mojitos but I could talk to the bartender and see if we can make one for you if you want?
Lady: Oh yes, that would be so great, thank you!
So after going to the kitchen to get strawberries, explaining what I want to the bar, and getting them to make a special drink...
Lady: Oh, I don't like this at all can I get something else instead?

Child: I'd like a margarita, please.
Me: Can I see your ID?
Child: Oh, I don't have it.
Lady: I'm their mother, I promise they're 21 can't you just get them their margarita?
Me, a server who likes not being fired: No, I cannot.

Me: Hi, my name is AC.
Lady: That's a boy's name.
Me, clearly a girl: Okay.

Update

So I began this blog with the intention to chronicle the shenanigans I got into as I bumbled my way into adulthood, and to put a humorous spin on whatever those shenanigans were. As it turns out, there is little funny about buying a car, paying taxes, and getting insurance policies straightened out. Going to the doctor isn't very amusing when you have to sit naked on a bench  for a stranger while dressed in a paper dress and answer very personal questions about yourself.

Instead, I think that, with my super infrequent updates, I'll switch over to things that happen with my job, because that's something interesting. Waiting tables brings quite a bit of variety and curious situations into my life so I might as well share it on the world wide web, and I have virtually a virtually endless source of content to share.

It should, at the least, be interesting.

School is good for you, kids

When I was a kid, I discovered that you could drop out of school at sixteen. This was wonderful news for me. An oasis in the desert, if you will. My ultimate goal in life was to stop school at sixteen (because it was useless anyway), get a job, get a place to live, get married, and live happily ever after.

When sixteen rolled around, I acknowledged that I was far too immature to accomplish such a feat, grudgingly admitted that I enjoyed school a bit, and continued my education.

My next plan in life was to stop school for a year after high school, work and earn money, and then go to school. That plan was a bust when I couldn't find a job (partially due to the fact that I applied to very few places, but I wasn't exactly the most job-searching-savvy person around).

So I went to school. Applied to two places, got accepted to both, earned scholarships for both. But one school was prettier, smaller, and farther away from home than the other, so that was where I went.

While I was there, I again tried to get jobs. My first was on the campus housekeeping team. That lasted one semester after nearly falling asleep in my Monday and Wednesday classes because of the early hours I had to keep for work. I switched to working in the biology lab and picked up some tutoring jobs along the way.

My first summer in school I couldn't find a job (yet again due to my horrible job-finding skills), and my second summer was nearly the same, except for one place: the college cafeteria. I worked that job, thinking I'd keep it for the summer and school year and find something better the next summer.

The next summer rolled around and I still had no job. I worked at the cafeteria. The following summer ended up the same way. Job at the cafeteria, with a few others thrown in for variety and spare cash. After graduation, still unable to find a job, and planning to move across the country soon anyway, I continued my glorious career in the school food-place and managed to find some compassionate soul who also hired me to work in their food-place. I was on my way to becoming food-place queen. It also turns out that it's easier to get a job if you have a degree. People want their servers and busboys to be oddly well-educated.

Two and a half years later, after a succession of food-place jobs, I came to a revelation while clearing my millionth table that day at the current food job. The revelation was this:

If I have to clean one more table, I will transform into a howling King Kong of rage and flip every table in this building.

So, howling King Kong of rage that I am, I quietly went through the rest of my shift and aggressively wanted to quit. So tomorrow I'm quitting. And then I will move on to my next food-place job because I already have it lined up and it turns out tourists will give you lots of money if you smile at them and bring them alcohol.

The point is, though, that I have never been happier over a decision that sixteen year old me made. Seriously, I made some terrible decisions at sixteen. I had horrible taste in everything. If I were to write a letter to myself at that age, it would go something like this: "Stay in school. You suck."

But because now that I have a college education, I'm Hireable by people because if I made it through school, surely that means I can be trained. So now I can make money. Which I can use to pay for more school and be broke forever so I can get a better job, because I want some letters after my name, and there's relatively few people with letters after their name clearing tables for a living.

So thanks, past me. For making this life of other people's food in all likelihood temporary. I'd say I owe you one, but there's so so much you owe me instead.