First Person Singular by Wendy Braitman

filed in Myths and stereotypes

What I learned as a Waitress

April 30, 2009 ⋅  Email This Post ⋅  Print This Post ⋅ Post a comment

I used to work at a restaurant revered in San Francisco food circles. I loved being a waiter. (Waitress was not a word we used.) The shifts were short, the crowds lively, the cash plentiful. My middle class parents pouted, envisioning me in a white-collar job instead of one demanding an apron. But in this restaurant, waiters held court, and I grew sophisticated because it was required of me. Customers were eager to hear our opinions about the menu, city hall politics or the latest novels we were reading. I wasn’t looking for marriage, but I was eager for love and scrunched my green apron low on my hips, the best I could do to be chic. My winning shot was the banter, and I got good at making an impression quickly in the minutes here and there at the table pouring a glass of wine, taking the order and delivering the plates. I dated frequently.

A job in a hectic restaurant requires enormous organizational skill, diplomacy, the ability to prioritize and multi-task under pressure, and the instincts for public relations, but I could never include this part of my employment history on a résumé. A waitress has no value in the marketplace. It’s not the kind of work I could boast about at family gatherings, or with potential employers. What a shame the perception is miles apart from the truth.

And this difference between perception and reality is something I would get to know well, journeying through life as a single woman.

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