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Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Starting Fresh?
Chances are you've met me. I am a waitress—or server. Whatever you want to call me, I'm still your bitch for the hour to hour and a half that you pop a squat at my table. So today, this day, I meet you. But don't feel special—not even for a half a second. I meet hundreds of new people on a daily basis. I smile. "I'm a professional," I comment as you stumble through a complicated order. You laugh. I'm funny—you think I'm funny but I have used this line on 75% of my tables, getting a laugh—and a larger tip—each and every time. I bring you drinks, and soups, and entrees, and drinks again. You smile and thank me. Comment on how nice and on top of things I am. When you want a side of mayo, though, you flag down the other blonde waitress in the restaurant, thinking she is me. It's ok. I get it all the time. In fact, I've been mistaken for nearly all the other female servers in my restaurant. In reality, it doesn’t matter if we're white, black, Latina, deaf, blind, wear glasses, have one arm... whatever... the truth is, you don't give two shits about me. Chances are, if I bring you an extra Pepsi without you having to ask, you'll give me a 20% tip. Well, let's be honest, I don't care about you either. I'm only here for the 20% tip. But I have an excuse right? I shouldn't be here. I'm better than this. It's only a matter of time before I've moved on—before you serve me. But I have been saying that for years. In fact, I took all the right steps to not be in this position. I was an honors student who took a part time job at a pizza joint because, “I wanted extra money.” I was a college student who waited tables because, “It’s the perfect job while I’m in college.” So what went wrong? Two years have passed since I walked the lawn to retrieve my College Degree and I’m in the same place I was when I graduated high school?
So what the hell did go wrong?
1) I was born in the eighties.
Now you think I’m crazy, but you honestly don’t think that the year you were born a shapes your success in life? Is a coincidence that Bill Gates came of age when computers were transitioning from sci-fi to reality and is now the richest man in the world? The same can be said of Howard Hughes. My birth year, 1984, guaranteed that I graduate college at the exact moment that the bubble popped. But how was I supposed to know this? I merely took all the right steps and graduated within four years.
But the economy will come back. I know it. But what I also know is that when it does bounce back, all those laid off professionals with years of experience will be hired before I will. Let’s be honest, large gaps of unemployment on a resume looks sloppy—but I refuse, with every piece of my B.A., that I will not list waitressing as job experience. So where does that leave me?
Interviewer: What have you been doing for the past two years?
Julianne: Smiling and batting her eyes. Writing a blog…but only just recently.
Anyway, 1984 turned out to be worse that Orwell predicted.
2) Soccer Moms
Sometime during these wonderful 1980’s all the soccer moms formed a military coop. They stormed the White House and insisted to President Reagan, that all children are created equal, and thus should be treated as such. This resulted in the false sense of uniqueness that every person born since 1980 feels. We were not “first place” or “last place” children anymore, we were “participation children.” We were congratulated on mediocrity and given trophies to forever commemorate our ability to place 7th in a group of 10.
Of course, I cannot limit the blame to soccer moms. Teachers, parents, coaches—everyone deserves a piece of the pie. These traitors insisted that each and every child was special, unique, and destined for greatness. But, of course, if everyone is special, then no body is right? It’s novel to think that your child will be the next president, but it’s also a crime to pass that notion of a noble self purpose on to your spawned generation. I was reassured my entire life that I would pretty much own the world if I went to college. Twenty-two years of disillusionment has only assured me that I’m pretty much average, just like every one else. A degree doesn’t set me apart, it lumps me into one of the most monotonous group of people, some of which have earned their degrees—gasp—online.
3) Lastly, Counselors
This is an all inclusive category. All counselors, from Junior High through college are guilty of this crime. Since I could recall, I was fed the notion that it doesn’t matter what your degree is in, as long as you have one.
The result?
B.A. in Creative Writing
The evidence that anything else is better than what I hold?
All of my friends have real jobs, while I use my B.A. to begin a blog, in a time when blogs have officially begun to go out of style—thank you Twitter.
And now I’m laying it out there. This is the truth—the honest truth—of how much being an overqualified waitress can eat away at your dreams, and how I need to learn how to deal with reality.
Until next time,
Julianne
PS~ Check out my prior blog, posted no more than a month after graduating college. It’s somewhat comical and naïve at the same time.
So what the hell did go wrong?
1) I was born in the eighties.
Now you think I’m crazy, but you honestly don’t think that the year you were born a shapes your success in life? Is a coincidence that Bill Gates came of age when computers were transitioning from sci-fi to reality and is now the richest man in the world? The same can be said of Howard Hughes. My birth year, 1984, guaranteed that I graduate college at the exact moment that the bubble popped. But how was I supposed to know this? I merely took all the right steps and graduated within four years.
But the economy will come back. I know it. But what I also know is that when it does bounce back, all those laid off professionals with years of experience will be hired before I will. Let’s be honest, large gaps of unemployment on a resume looks sloppy—but I refuse, with every piece of my B.A., that I will not list waitressing as job experience. So where does that leave me?
Interviewer: What have you been doing for the past two years?
Julianne: Smiling and batting her eyes. Writing a blog…but only just recently.
Anyway, 1984 turned out to be worse that Orwell predicted.
2) Soccer Moms
Sometime during these wonderful 1980’s all the soccer moms formed a military coop. They stormed the White House and insisted to President Reagan, that all children are created equal, and thus should be treated as such. This resulted in the false sense of uniqueness that every person born since 1980 feels. We were not “first place” or “last place” children anymore, we were “participation children.” We were congratulated on mediocrity and given trophies to forever commemorate our ability to place 7th in a group of 10.
Of course, I cannot limit the blame to soccer moms. Teachers, parents, coaches—everyone deserves a piece of the pie. These traitors insisted that each and every child was special, unique, and destined for greatness. But, of course, if everyone is special, then no body is right? It’s novel to think that your child will be the next president, but it’s also a crime to pass that notion of a noble self purpose on to your spawned generation. I was reassured my entire life that I would pretty much own the world if I went to college. Twenty-two years of disillusionment has only assured me that I’m pretty much average, just like every one else. A degree doesn’t set me apart, it lumps me into one of the most monotonous group of people, some of which have earned their degrees—gasp—online.
3) Lastly, Counselors
This is an all inclusive category. All counselors, from Junior High through college are guilty of this crime. Since I could recall, I was fed the notion that it doesn’t matter what your degree is in, as long as you have one.
The result?
B.A. in Creative Writing
The evidence that anything else is better than what I hold?
All of my friends have real jobs, while I use my B.A. to begin a blog, in a time when blogs have officially begun to go out of style—thank you Twitter.
And now I’m laying it out there. This is the truth—the honest truth—of how much being an overqualified waitress can eat away at your dreams, and how I need to learn how to deal with reality.
Until next time,
Julianne
PS~ Check out my prior blog, posted no more than a month after graduating college. It’s somewhat comical and naïve at the same time.
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