While at home over Christmas break, it was demanded of me by my mother that I go through my drawers and get rid of old things. She does this every year because we need to have room for a new stuff from Santa (who is real). I was sitting in the floor of my bedroom going through clothing drawers when I realized I had yet to tackle the junk drawer. I huffed and scooted over to the drawer and pulled it open. The first thing I saw flooded me with a sense of nostalgia. Laying in my drawer was my apron from the restraunt I used to work at. All of a sudden I was sixteen again, getting ready for my first day of work. My name tag was still attached in the spot I kept it when I wasn’t working. It still had my favorite blue ink pen and my old check pad that we used to take orders. There were even a few straws still in it.
This made me think about how lucky I was to have that oppurtunity. Don’t get me wrong, I hated waitressing, and honestly it’s one of the major reasons I went to college. I have mad respect for the women that do this as their career ( so tip your waitresses good!). My first job was just like any other first job. The restaurant I worked at was family owned and had been there for over seventy-five years, and is still a bit of a landmark in my hometown. People have been coming there since they were born, and I was no exception. My dad had worked there when I was a smal child. The owner’s family used to babysit me.
I remember walking into my first day thinking I was going to be waiting tables with no training. I wore my nicest pair of jeans, my favorite t-shirt, and my cute white keds that were brand new. However, as soon as I walked in the door my manager sent me straight to the kitchen. I thought this had to be a mistake, only to find out that was how they trained new staff. After two nights in the kitchen I was on the floor, but I still wasn’t waiting tables on my own. There’s this really long process and I won’t bore you with the details, but waitressing is not as easy as people like to think.
I worked there for two years, and wouldn’t trade those years for anything. Not everyday was great. I didn’t get along with everyone all the time. But when I left on my last day, there were definitly a few tears. I don’t regret leaving, because it was my time to go. I still miss it. This place gave me a lot. Two of my absolute best friends I met there. I go and visit and it’s like I never left. I miss it, and I am grateful for the oppurutnity. So if you’re working a not so fun job, don’t focus on the terrible things you have to do (like clean the bathrooms). Focus on the people that you’re with, because you will never have another first job.