Back home, I never served anything to anyone, besides a cup of water to my husband. The thought of tripping and spilling a drink in a costumer's lap made me pledge to never accept this type of jobs. Oh, the irony of life!
On the bright side, being the only foreign in the team is
a real boon. My
colleagues, mostly high school teenagers, seem amazed when they hear how far I
traveled to move here. We bond over work chores and that makes me feel accepted. I also discovered that taking
orders, pouring soup, folding napkins and parking walkers for a living becomes
more bearable, if I pretend I’m just documenting the life of a server.
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| My first attempt to take an order and my notebook with new words in English |
But working among natives really pushes my limits. It's an ongoing struggle to understand both the language and the job itself. Let me give you an example.
When
Veronica, another colleague of mine, suggested I should take the order from a
table of eight, I freaked out. “Sure, just let me go to the bathroom real quick”,
I said as calmly as I could, with a frozen smile on my face. Some deep breaths
later and a short pep talk, I was ready to tackle my first work challenge. While writing
down everything was easier than I thought, I found it extremely difficult to
keep track of their orders. One table received dessert, the other was still expected the salad.
Today
someone will be shadowing me and I have no clue how will things progress from
here on. The convenience of having a part-time decently paid that leaves me with
plenty of time to write on this blog is priceless. At the same time, a new job
sounds to me like the perfect Christmas present.
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