What gives you nightmares?
(Kassie)
You know, I hate remembering my dreams. I hate it because when I wake up, I feel like I haven't slept. And I never have any good dreams. Nothing ever occurs to me in my sleep. I never wake up full of great ideas or invigorated by a novel thought. I don't even dream any hot, sexy dreams. I just endure awkward amalgamations of whatever is going on in my life at a particular point in time. And these "dreams" just make me feel like I'm right back in the middle of whatever is already going on.
Lame.
The nice part, however, about not having any good dreams, is that I don't really have any bad dreams either.
Except the bad waitressing dream. Uff da. That one still haunts me at least a couple times a year...even though I haven't poured a cup of coffee or flirted for a tip in almost 4 years.
The bad waitressing dream is the one where I start my shift and no one is in my section. The first table gets seated...it's usually a family of 5 or 6. And they take forever to order...lots of questions, lots of calling me back over before I can get away. While I'm stumbling through their order, another table gets seated in my section. And then another. And then another. And I can't get to them...I can't get away from that first table. And all the tables look mad. And they write me off before I even have a chance to introduce myself.
Sometimes this takes place in restaurants in which I've worked. Other times, I'm dream-waitressing in my real-life favorite places (like Al's Breakfast or even The Modern). But every time, it's a disaster. I wake up feeling awful and defeated. And it sticks with me all day.
I realize this isn't a real nightmare. Nothing tragic happens. No one dies. There aren't even any gory monsters or anything.
It's just so frustrating, because I never even get a chance to prove myself. Man, I hate that dream.
I did so love waitressing, and even though it was always a part-time gig for me I always tried to treat those jobs with as much respect and reverence as I did any other professional role. I prided myself on being a good waitress. I worked hard to create sincere relationships with my customers. I got to know my "regulars." It was hard to leave The Broiler in 2008...after 4 years of Sunday mornings with the same folks coming in at the same time...eating the same food...doing the same crossword puzzles. I miss them. I wonder how they are. Is their routine the same? Even after all this time?
Sincere relationships also helped create community and support when customers got out of line. I must have had more gumption than I remember as a teenager, because one morning, at The Next Door Cafe, one of the regulars (an older guy named Russ) got up to go sit with another table right as his order was coming up. "Don't you want your breakfast," I called, as he walked away. "You can bring it to me over here," he said, "That's what women are for anyway."
I stopped short...about 3 booths away from his new seat...and slammed the plate down on an empty table so hard that the toast fell off the plate and the yolks of the over-easy eggs broke. "Carry it your damn self," I said. And all his buddies...all the other old-timer men who came in for coffee at 5:30 a.m. on the weekends? They cheered and clapped like mad. And Russ got up to retrieve what was left of his breakfast.
I also tried to use my smart, sassy sense of humor to foster relationships and smooth over tough situations in the middle of orders. Sometimes I even used it to come to my own defense. My favorite example of "sense of humor to the rescue"?
It was a busy Sunday morning at The Broiler. I was waitressing in the front room (per my usual), so I had 3 booths (4-tops) and the whole counter (like 10 stools). The booths were full and there were quite a few people at the counter. I was running my ass off. This family placed their order, and the guy said to me, "I want my milk with my meal" (I hate that, by the way...I'll bring your milk when I have time to bring your milk, thank you very much).
Fine. Whatever. So I poured his milk and put it in the cooler so I could bring it out with breakfast.
The order comes up. I load the 3 huge, piping-hot plates on my arms and head over to the table...omelettes and French toast and hasbrowns and bacon. Lots of it. As I begin to turn around to grab the guy's milk out of the cooler--right on the other damn side of the counter--he quips, "You forgot my milk. It's a good thing you work in St. Paul. You'd never make it in Minneapolis*."
I turned on my heel, grabbed the milk, returned to the booth and set it none-too-gently in front of the guy. "It's a good thing I'm working on my PhD so the world doesn't have to suffer with me as a waitress," I said.
This pitifully sheepish look flashed across the guy's face. "Touché," he said. His behavior was quite lovely for the rest of the meal. And he left a great tip.
I think that's why the waitressing nightmare bugs me so much. I never get to remedy the problem. I never get to win them over with my wit or my sass...or with my mad waitressing skillz. I never get to form the relationship. I never get to make things right.
Once you've waitressed, it is always a part of your identity. It's an experience that never really leaves you...no matter how long you've been away from the work. I expect that waitressing nightmare will be with me forever...and that's perfectly fine. Those were good days...rife with nostalgia. I loved my customers...I loved those restaurants. I'll endure a frantic dream from time to time, if it helps keep those memories alive.
Lame.
The nice part, however, about not having any good dreams, is that I don't really have any bad dreams either.
 |
| The Next Door Cafe - New Richmond, WI Hostess/Waitress 1990-93 |
The bad waitressing dream is the one where I start my shift and no one is in my section. The first table gets seated...it's usually a family of 5 or 6. And they take forever to order...lots of questions, lots of calling me back over before I can get away. While I'm stumbling through their order, another table gets seated in my section. And then another. And then another. And I can't get to them...I can't get away from that first table. And all the tables look mad. And they write me off before I even have a chance to introduce myself.
 |
| Meister's Bar & Grill - Star Prairie, WI Waitress/Bartender 1993-95 & 1999 (summers) |
I realize this isn't a real nightmare. Nothing tragic happens. No one dies. There aren't even any gory monsters or anything.
It's just so frustrating, because I never even get a chance to prove myself. Man, I hate that dream.
I did so love waitressing, and even though it was always a part-time gig for me I always tried to treat those jobs with as much respect and reverence as I did any other professional role. I prided myself on being a good waitress. I worked hard to create sincere relationships with my customers. I got to know my "regulars." It was hard to leave The Broiler in 2008...after 4 years of Sunday mornings with the same folks coming in at the same time...eating the same food...doing the same crossword puzzles. I miss them. I wonder how they are. Is their routine the same? Even after all this time?
Sincere relationships also helped create community and support when customers got out of line. I must have had more gumption than I remember as a teenager, because one morning, at The Next Door Cafe, one of the regulars (an older guy named Russ) got up to go sit with another table right as his order was coming up. "Don't you want your breakfast," I called, as he walked away. "You can bring it to me over here," he said, "That's what women are for anyway."
I stopped short...about 3 booths away from his new seat...and slammed the plate down on an empty table so hard that the toast fell off the plate and the yolks of the over-easy eggs broke. "Carry it your damn self," I said. And all his buddies...all the other old-timer men who came in for coffee at 5:30 a.m. on the weekends? They cheered and clapped like mad. And Russ got up to retrieve what was left of his breakfast.
I also tried to use my smart, sassy sense of humor to foster relationships and smooth over tough situations in the middle of orders. Sometimes I even used it to come to my own defense. My favorite example of "sense of humor to the rescue"?
 |
| St. Clair Broiler - St. Paul, MN Hostess/Waitress 2004-08 |
Fine. Whatever. So I poured his milk and put it in the cooler so I could bring it out with breakfast.
The order comes up. I load the 3 huge, piping-hot plates on my arms and head over to the table...omelettes and French toast and hasbrowns and bacon. Lots of it. As I begin to turn around to grab the guy's milk out of the cooler--right on the other damn side of the counter--he quips, "You forgot my milk. It's a good thing you work in St. Paul. You'd never make it in Minneapolis*."
I turned on my heel, grabbed the milk, returned to the booth and set it none-too-gently in front of the guy. "It's a good thing I'm working on my PhD so the world doesn't have to suffer with me as a waitress," I said.
This pitifully sheepish look flashed across the guy's face. "Touché," he said. His behavior was quite lovely for the rest of the meal. And he left a great tip.
I think that's why the waitressing nightmare bugs me so much. I never get to remedy the problem. I never get to win them over with my wit or my sass...or with my mad waitressing skillz. I never get to form the relationship. I never get to make things right.
Once you've waitressed, it is always a part of your identity. It's an experience that never really leaves you...no matter how long you've been away from the work. I expect that waitressing nightmare will be with me forever...and that's perfectly fine. Those were good days...rife with nostalgia. I loved my customers...I loved those restaurants. I'll endure a frantic dream from time to time, if it helps keep those memories alive.
___________________________
*There's a little Minneapolis/St. Paul rivalry, just in case you non-MSPers were unawares. Us St. Paulites are happy to let the Minneapolitans think they're hipper. It keeps them across the river and out of our perfectly lovely city.
2 comments:
I frequently have dreams where I'm back working at Target, which I've been done with for two years now. It gets worse right before I visit my parents in my hometown for vacations. I dream that I go back to work for them for the two weeks I'm home. I understand your struggle with it!
Hmmmm...I never have a waitressing nightmare. I sometimes think "I miss waitressing, maybe I should pick up a part time job..." and then 45 seconds later I stop thinking like a crazy person. But it was fun. And I made great, great friends while doing it.
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