Try orderin' somebody else's blog around

I waited tables for 13 years. THIRTEEN YEARS, PEOPLE! And here’s the rub: A) I thought I was pretty good at it when I was doing it because I was able to pay my bills and go to movies and buy cocktails, etc. but I, in fact, was not good at it at all. B) That is not the job for someone with food issues.

Let’s start with A.

I’m not sure how I convinced myself I was a good waitress. I think it’s because I only got suspended once and I kept getting hired when I would apply for a job and I always had money in my pocket. So I convinced myself I was rockin’ it. But while all that was happening I made one third less money than all of my contemporaries and I had continuous waitress nightmares. I had one where I went to work and my “section” was through a door and into a gymnasium. There was one super long table there and it was mine. Oh, but it wasn’t my ONLY table. NO. So I started taking orders and pouring coffee and by the time I got around the table the first person was asking where their food was and I hadn’t even put the order in yet. I go to put the order in and I don’t understand the computer and I’m standing at the computer forever and the waiters behind me are yelling and pushing me out of the way and I can’t get my order placed. I would wake up breathing heavily like I had just run a city block and my sheets were often damp from perspiration. It’s making my stomach hurt just retelling it.

I remember whenever I would quit a day job (because I hated most of them) I would always say, “I can always go back to waiting tables.” But the truth is I don’t think I could. With my newfound enlightenment (that enlightened me to sucking at waiting tables), I don’t think I could make a living at it. I mean, I could scrape by financially maybe, but I would be stressed out and dreading it daily. I would lose sleep. The more stressed I got the more I would eat. It would rule my life.

B) Someone told me once that if you work in a fast food joint long enough, the smell of the hot grease gets to you and you never want to eat fast food again. I had a friend in high school who worked at Dairy Queen (oh, yes) and said she never wanted to see or eat ice cream again as long as she lived. I guess it’s the same principle as your Dad catching you smoking and making you smoke the whole pack. Right? So I thought that principle would apply to restaurants also. But for me, not so much. I love restaurants. I love sitting and having things brought to me. I love not cooking (cuz I’m the Lazy Foodie … remember?) I REALLY love not washing the dishes after cooking. I sometimes like the décor. I often like the way the table looks, like if there’s a candle and pretty glasses. And I love the food. It is rare that I hate something I order in a restaurant. It happens, I’m sure. I just can’t think of the last time.

While I was working in restaurants I kept thinking I would get sick of my shift meal at some point. That also never happened. (a shift meal is the meal you are provided by your job and I think it’s because you work a 6 – 8 hour shift without a true break … or I always worked a 6 – 8 hour shift without a break. Oh and the shift meal is one of only a few choices). I never got sick of my shift meal or the food I was surrounded by. I could never resist it. I would go back to the prep area and grab things off the deck. I would literally grab bites of things off plates before taking them out to the table. I WOULD. I couldn’t resist. If you have an issue with food and eating, I’m thinking working in a restaurant … that makes food … may not be the way to go. It wasn’t for me, anyhow.

I hope I never have to go back to waiting tables, but if I do … I think I’m gonna apply at House of Pies. Mmmmm. NOOOOOOooooooo!!