Did I say bitter? I meant to say better. I truly believe that working in the service industry, particularly as a server, enhances your character. My journey began at fifteen in a chain restaurant called The Greek Table, located in my local mall. I put “Greek” in quotes because while it had a Greek name and served Greek salad, the rest of the menu was filled with Americanized gyro variations. Who knows, maybe they do serve Chinese chicken gyros in Greece—I’ve never been, so I can’t say for certain!
My first job was at the cash register, where I seated guests, processed their payments, and sold enormous, delicious muffins. Picture the muffin you have in mind, multiply its size by three, and give it an even larger top. They were stunning, and many customers visited just for coffee and a muffin. The locals in my town were not concerned about our menu’s authenticity. Those muffins were our secret weapon; when a customer was unhappy with their food, we’d deliver one of these giant muffins to their table with a big, sympathetic smile and say, “We’re sorry you weren’t completely satisfied with your meal. Here’s a muffin on us for tomorrow breakfast.” More often than not, this would turn their frown upside down, and they would leave a generous tip.
Once I turned sixteen and paid my dues as a hostess, I was promoted to the coveted position of waitress, where the real money was made. Our head waitress, Tina, could have been anywhere from thirty to sixty years old—her age was a mystery—but she was classy and always had a laugh ready for me. Tina had been at the restaurant for ages and preferred the flexibility of waiting tables over managing, as it allowed her to earn more while enjoying fewer responsibilities. She was like our big sister, always looking out for us and reminding us that while we needed to work hard, we shouldn’t take it too seriously. After all, it was just The Greek Table, not a political summit.
We wore matching polyester uniforms and name tags. If we forgot our tags, we could rummage through a drawer filled with leftovers from previous employees and pick a new name for the night. Some shifts, I was “Samantha,” other times “Linda.” I swear, I performed better as a Samantha than a Linda; when I was Linda, all I cared about was finishing my shift. As Samantha, I was focused on customer satisfaction and maintaining a clean restaurant. However, wearing a different name tag had its downsides—customers would call out my name, and I often wouldn’t hear them, resulting in poorer tips.
At The Greek Table, flirting with the kitchen staff was always a highlight. They were either high school seniors or attending the local community college, and I was lucky enough to snag free food most days. While we couldn’t take gyros, the cooks sometimes made one for us, claiming it was a “mistake.” I was especially clever with my free pita and salad, creating makeshift gyros that I dipped in hot soup. I still blame The Greek Table for my obsession with feta cheese—I’d never tasted it before working there, and now I can’t live without it.
My time at The Greek Table taught me invaluable life skills: how to smoke a cigarette, create the illusion of cleanliness, and play dumb when necessary. Thankfully, in the late 1990s, dietary restrictions were minimal. People simply enjoyed their BBQ pork gyros and muffins without a worry, unlike today.
My next job was at a restaurant called The Green Leaf in Chicago. I was a college freshman working at a local retail store during the day. I hated that job but needed the money. One afternoon, while biking to work, I encountered two guys revving their motorcycles. One of them, named Derek, called me over, suggesting I try out as a waitress at their restaurant. I was ready to quit my retail gig, so I took a chance.
Upon arriving at The Green Leaf, I felt completely out of my element. The atmosphere was upscale, with patrons dressed in black, sipping on wine and cocktails. The manager, Greg, took one look at me and asked my age. When I told him I was eighteen, he responded, “No, you’re twenty-one. Start tomorrow at 11 a.m.” I was both thrilled and terrified.
The Green Leaf was a whirlwind. The staff pooled tips and often headed to nightclubs together after shifts. We formed a tight-knit group, sharing laughs and late-night adventures, but I soon discovered that the camaraderie was more complicated than it seemed. Eventually, when the restaurant slowed down and new trendy spots opened, I decided to return to my studies.
It took a while to find another restaurant job, but I eventually landed at a nightclub called Velvet Lounge. Initially hired as a cocktail waitress, I quickly realized it wasn’t for me. I struggled to navigate through crowds, delivering drinks while dodging bumps and spills. Fortunately, the manager offered me a coat check position after the previous girl had a rough night. The job was challenging, but I preferred crawling through coats to maneuvering through throngs of partygoers. I may have lost a coat or two, but I thrived in that environment.
Working in the service industry has its ups and downs, but it undoubtedly shapes you into a more resilient and adaptable person. It’s a unique world that teaches you empathy, hard work, and the importance of a good muffin.
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Summary
In summary, working in the service industry, particularly as a waitress, provides invaluable life lessons and skills that contribute to personal growth. From developing empathy to learning how to navigate complex social dynamics, these experiences shape individuals into better versions of themselves.
Keyphrase: Benefits of working in the service industry
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