On Waitressing at 25 – Employment Dos and Don’ts

When I was 25 years old, I had a BA in Political Science and Criminal Justice, an MA in Secondary Education, and a student loan debt that could finance a midsize luxury car. My ambition was to teach high school social studies.

Instead I was waitressing.

I worked at a steak house in Racine, Minnesota, population 407, five miles to the rural side from where I graduated high school, Stewartville, Minnesota, population 5,916. I’d gone away to college to get out of my small town, but ended up even deeper into it after my higher education. My car at the time was one from the “under 2” lot. I thought the sign meant “under $200” which would have been in my budget range, but after a conversation with the salesman (literally, a man), to my great embarrassment, I realized they meant “under $2,000” which was not in my range. Somehow I walked off the lot obligated to make car payments because I didn’t want to admit I didn’t understand the signage. (My friend Deb, who was with me, thought it was hilarious because she too thought it was under $200.) So there I was with a student loan payment, a car payment, multiple degrees, and a part-time waitressing job.

Fortunately I was living at home, so my other expenses were pretty low, but it was depressing. My people don’t live at home after high school, much less after college. We get up, get out, and get to work. Most of us, with no student loan debt. It all felt very dead end. (To be fair, my parents are the kind of folks who would always take their kids in, at any age, for any reason. But it still felt like failure to me.)

This steak house was considered the place to go for a good tasting, full course meal with cocktails and a salad bar. People drove from miles around to eat there. I’d show up for my shift wearing the required black and white Swiss miss uniform and a sturdy black apron with two pockets to keep the order book and take notes. The uniform was supplied but we had to buy our own apron, which I kept for a long time thinking that it would always be my economic back up plan. Every shift, I ran like crazy for eight hours, triple-multitasking to take orders, get drinks, deliver bread baskets, chit chat with clients, push large trays of hot food, calculate bills, and create elaborate systems of charting what food plate went with what customer. All while not treading on the other waitress staff.

Part of the job also involved darting away from the boozy schmooches of the restaurant owner (a middle aged man) and ignoring his leering looks even while I took food orders from a table full of customers. Was I especially attractive, I wondered, or did he stare at everyone? The answer was probably yes to both. Back then I didn’t know that there will always be older men who prey on younger women, and that every 25-year-old girl looks great in a Swiss miss dress with a fitted bodice. When you own the restaurant, you can gawk whenever you want. The job also involved withstanding abusive comments from the cooking staff (all men) whenever a food order was turned in and picked up, approximately 100 times each shift, an estimate based on a five-table service area, turning over five times, two order per table hors d'oeuvres and main course (5 X 5 X 2 X 2). Of course the new people always got it the worst.

Still, I earned pretty good money. I made the waitress wage of something like a $1.50 per hour (can’t remember exactly, but I do know it was far below minimum wage) plus tips, where the real cash comes. I still recommend this line of work for young people who need to make money while advancing their dreams. The better the restaurant, the bigger the tips. (Sexual harassment notwithstanding.) I suppose I brought home about $50 - $100 per night for an eight hour shift. Even in current day economics, that translates to up to $12.50 an hour, far better than minimum wage. And, to me, far better than standing around bored silly selling stuff in retail store.

It wasn’t my first or last job in the food service industry. I remember believing that I’d be serving up, cleaning up, or cutting up food for the rest of my life. Deep fry grease under my finger nails and in every pore of my skin. But after working the steak house joint for four months, about the same time the cooks started being nice to me, I accepted another job offer that was not food-related and seemed more in line with my dream of teaching. (Though it did involve supplementing my income with a part time job at an ice cream parlour.)

My employment path has been a twisty-turny road ever since.

Fast forward to today.

Now twice as old as my waitress self, I’m entrenched into my second student loan debt, an office job, and a vision for the writing life (which usually pays nothing). I’m constantly negotiating and renegotiating salary potential, paid vacation, pension, insurance and the almighty holy grail of job satisfaction. These are things I never thought about while waitressing more than two decades past. However a couple of years ago things were going badly and I hit up my friend, Lora, for a job in one of her restaurants. She runs a couple of high end Italian bistros and I still have my black apron. I figured I could make some decent money while figuring out my next move. Lora and I sat down for lunch to discuss the idea.

"You're too nice to work in this business," she said. (My current reputation of pastor's wife belies my background.) But it was actually Lora who was too nice, because she was kind enough not to say out loud the real reason she couldn't hire me into her wait staff: I was too old. Instead I found a different job, thanks to the help of another friend, writing grant applications to help children.

These days I feel so far away from my 25-year-old waitress self until I interact with my nieces making their way through their twenties, my foundation team freshly minted from their own university graduation, other young people with bold ideas, and my daughter about to enter college (who will be the least likely person to read this). At age 51 I’m still trying to figure out how to make my dreams come true and pay the bills all at the same time, thus I offer this list of employment dos and don’ts to you all as much as a reminder to myself:
1.     Don’t go it alone.
2.     Do trust your talents.
3.     Do seek out the helpers, find the mentors – they exist and they want you to succeed.
4.     Don’t listen to the people who will bring you down and make you think it’s your fault, whether your boyfriend or your boss. These people exist and they want you to fail. (I don’t know why, but they do).
5.     Do be especially wary of older men who prey on young women.
6.     Do believe that you are fabulous and that the world needs you.
7.     Don’t look back on things that have hurt you as signs of your failure.
8.     Do look back on the things that have hurt you as signs of your resilience – you survived and you will thrive.
9.     Do keep looking for opportunity.
10.  Don’t ever stop learning, growing, and getting better.
11.  Don’t let a student loan debt hold you back. (And know that there are grants, scholarships, and such if you have the time to research them. Check out a partner database of the NYC-based foundationcenter.org. If you’re in NYC, go there in person.)
12.  Do food service for a living, if that’s your passion, but go for the highest pay and power – be a chef or an owner (roles usually filled by men). Waitressing is fairly lucrative for the short haul, but it’s ultimately a subordinate role and it’s not financially or physically sustainable.
13.  Do surround yourself with a community of people who love you for who you are, with no strings attached, whether that be your church, your family, your friends, or your tribe. (And be aware when your group is bringing you down. See #4.)
14.  Do help others succeed as much as you can, in any way you can.
15.  Do remind yourself that no matter what your job title is, you are bigger.
16.  Don’t forget to remember the people who helped you along the way.

With love from yours truly.