The End of a Shift

I've been waiting tables half my life. 18 years that I’ve been a server and before that I was a hostess. Man, what a wild ride. The people that you work with will change the way you look at life. The people that you serve will challenge the way you look at life.

There have been moments that I’ve been so angry. Moments where walking into those double doors felt like my heart might literally cave in on itself. The job of food service is immensely draining on the body, mind and soul. The amount of energy it takes to stay happy and accommodating, while the people you tend to are under-appreciative takers, is insane. But somehow I kept going. I made it though those doors, one more day at a time, one year after another.

While my heart was being squashed, I wasn’t able to stop. I was basically in an abusive relationship with my job. Even if I changed the locations, the expectations were the same. Most places I worked, I was less of an individual and more of a robot. When told I had to wear my hair in a braid or a bun I cut my long hair to a bob, just so I didn’t have to conform to their rules. At one restaurant they made us wear numbers instead of names, and we weren’t allowed to say our names unless we were asked. Fortunately, it ended up that I preferred it that way. It was definitely better than people saying my name like they were my friend, only to ask for ranch or another beer. I put miles and miles on my body. I smiled on days that would've been easier to cry. I waited on people who didn’t care and I waited on people who became friends. I waited on people who would order $150 of shots and leave me $2. After I did my tip outs to the bussers and food runners, it would turn out that I actually spent money waiting on them. I worked with people who have become friends who have hearts of gold, and I worked with some of the most self-centered, money-grubbers who would push past anyone to make a dime. Literally, they would run you over for a dime.

So many times I thought I was going to be finished. I was ready for next steps, but I couldn’t make the leap. It wasn’t just a step I needed to make, it was an entire change of perspective and worth.

I pretty much decided that the only way out of the food service industry was to leave Los Angeles. The money is good, the hours are great, it’s a flexible schedule and you leave your work when you walk out the door. It was way too easy of a life, but unfulfilling. I was good at my job but I knew I had more to offer the world. I still don’t know what that is yet, but it's definitely something else. I want to touch people and help them while utilizing my personal drive and creativity. I decided to move back to Virginia, to be close to family as I start to figure it all out.

My last months of waiting tables my perspective totally changed. I made a change in my heart. I knew that if I was going to be in this atmosphere a few more months that I had to make the best of it. If I had to serve people I would do what I could to really serve them, in a way that provided more than food and beverage. I would take care of them as much as I could. I wanted to prove to myself that if my purpose is to make the world better or make other people happier that I should be able to do that no matter what my profession. It became my own personal challenge. I did everything I could to make them laugh and to make them feel seen. If they were a tiny bit unhappy with their food I took it off the table and replaced it no questions asked. If they were at my table they would enjoy every bite and every moment. I tried to make every person that I was in contact with to feel like a recognized soul. I tried to touch their day in a positive way, because who knows if that had happened for them that day or if it would when they left. Sure at times it was hard, I wasn’t perfect, but I tried the best I could.

People's reactions were inspiring. I made people laugh. I got a note from a mom whose husband was deployed saying that her son hadn’t smiled in weeks until he was at my table. It had been a hard time for them. I got notes saying I was incredible or receipts that had hearts on them. It was awesome. People that I didn’t know before they walked in the doors would hug me on the way out. There were people that you could tell weren’t financially well off, and the chance of a tip was small, but I served them better, because I felt they needed it most. They still didn’t tip and I didn’t care. I gave it as a gift, as my service pro bono. My job became not all that bad at the end. It was easier though, knowing I had a limited time left.

I was a loyal employee. I stayed at restaurants from three to four years. I gave each one my all. I helped out and picked up shifts for as many people as I could, not even for the money but to help out other servers in the hopes that when I needed help they would return the favor. They usually did.

Every time I left a restaurant, it felt like they were going to miss me. Who could replace me? Who would help everyone, come in and decorate for Xmas, train the new staff, sell the most guacamole or cheese plates? But every time I left, they still carried on. New people come in to replace me. Sometimes it takes more than one new person to replace the senior employees when they leave. When I return and visit, people are marginally excited to see me at first. A few months later you are lucky if they even recognize you or if you recognize half the staff.

My general manager gave me a “travel rock” when I left. She found it on the beach and it was sweet, thoughtful going away gift. She wanted me to feel safe and thought of as I left. Another gave me a bottle of wine. I was touched. There were times when I are thanked. My Los Angeles family are a group of friends that I made while being a server. I wouldn't trade them for the world.

I did everything I could to be a good server and to take care of the people I served. In Israel everyone has to serve in the army. In the US I think every person should work in service for at least a year. People would treat you differently if they knew what you went through. People would be less rood and demanding once they realized how much you actually try and do for them. But they won’t.

It feels good to be finished. I’m unemployed but I don’t feel run down or under appreciated, and I will figure the rest out. I would joke and say that my favorite sound in the world was when my check-out was printing at the end of my shift. It meant I was done, at least for the day. I could go home and take a nap because my energy would be completely drained. Imagine how good the last check-out felt, knowing I was turning in the money for the last time.

Some people asked if I celebrated or burned my apron. I didn’t. I actually didn’t care. I didn’t want to give the position or the effect it had on my life any more importance than it deserved. I learned how to serve people. I learned patience and I saw true colors. Most importantly I made friends- artists and soul searchers, lovers and fighters, who worked their butts off to try and pursue their dreams and live at the bare minimum. I’m lucky I had that experience. I did it for way too long, but that’s how long it took me to learn how to make my job a gift of service instead of being a waiter.

As I move forward in any job or daily practice, I want to hold on to that. I want to remember that I have the ability to make people feel acknowledged and special at any moment, even in my worst scenario or circumstance. I learned that lesson, and now that it’s truly learned I can do my final restaurant checkout. Good-bye restaurants. Hello the rest of my whatever.