Can I Take Your Order?

Earlier this month I read the sad news that Friendly's was in bankruptcy and closing all their restaurants. I have to say, I was a little sad. Besides the fact that I don't know another place that serves a burger on toast, or has a butter crunch ice cream that got me through 3 pregnancies, it was also the home of my first waitressing job. It was not my finest fashion moment, blue and white polyester dress, tied with a bow at the back, and completed with a pair of white nursing shoes, but for some reason I didn't care. I ended each shift covered to my elbows in ice cream and nauseous from French fry eating (not from the customer’s plates, just the ones that "fell off" the customer’s plates). My friends didn't complain either when I handed "complimentary" cones and snacks out the takeout window. Did I just admit to low-level embezzlement? If so, I'm hoping the statute of limitations has run out on my petty theft.

I had part-time jobs all through high school and college. It was never a parental requirement; I just liked making my own money and the camaraderie that came with the territory. I did stints in the retail world as well, an inaugural employee when Loehmann's opened nearby, but waitressing was much more fun. As much as I love clothing, picking up someone else cast offs from the floor was not the best occupation for a girl whose own closet was littered with unhung garments. I also felt the need to give customers an honest opinion on potential purchases; they should have thanked me but apparently many were not ready to take fashion and fit advice from an 18 year old. The biggest problem with my retail career was that by the end of the week it was essentially a volunteer job, my paycheck went right back to the register, week after week. At least as a waitress it was nearly impossible to "eat" my pay.

In college I did a short run in a coffee shop beneath the dorm. I primarily served Bran muffins and Sanka freezes (think coffee milkshake) to BU girls on a high fiber, caffeine free diet. The tips weren't great and I moved on to a full service restaurant. The checks were bigger, but so were the hassles of food cooked improperly, rude customers and overly friendly bosses. This particular job taught me to not piss off the wait staff; bad things do happen in the kitchen, and to tip well. The server often pays the price for any screw up behind the scene, and in this place it was a nightly occurrence, so off I went. Next stop, the local college bar, Fathers Too. Every campus has a place just like it; this one was down a few stairs, dark and narrow, music courtesy of a jukebox upfront and filled over capacity most nights. I sold mostly pitchers and long island ice teas and rarely took a credit card. The money was good; college kids get progressively more generous and forgetful with each round served. Boys try and impress with big tips until an unhappy girlfriend pipes in, and girls, well, I wasn't counting on them for a big payday. It was fun and easy, no menus, no food, no cranky kitchen staff and the bartenders were like a row of big brothers watching over me from behind the counter. There was one in particular that I watched back; the best part of every shift. At the end of the night, when the last of the “stumblers” made it out the door, the staff would grab a stool and finish the night with a round or two. I know my parents were never very happy that this was my chosen place of employment, but I don't think they ever asked me to quit, and I don't think I would have anyway.  It ended with graduation, never waitressed anywhere after that, but for a long time I missed the easy pattern that came with long nights at the bar and the sleepy days that followed.

Waitressing, in theory, requires all of the same character traits that I continue to use professionally, even now. You have to be friendly and able to make conversation with anyone and everyone, to think on your feet, to react quickly, to occasionally be thick-skinned, to sell more than a person intended to buy, to be kind and respectful to the people who support you behind the scenes, and to make sure that each and every customer interaction ensures repeat business. For the ten years I sold residential real estate, those were skills I used every day and in my current position in the non-profit world, customer satisfaction is essential for survival. All in all, I would say all those years carrying a tray was time well spent. 

I'm not sure when Friendly's will close its final door in my town, but I'll be sure and have one last visit before they do. I can't say I’ll miss it all that much, haven't been there in years, just feels like the end of an era. I’ll have a burger on toast, fries, and a Fribble, and say good-bye with a butter crunch hot fudge sundae. Maybe if I'm nice they'll let me scoop a cone or two for old time’s sake; I wonder if my right arm still has the skill? The waitress will not be wearing blue and white polyester, they got cooler uniforms after I left, but she will probably have ice cream stuck to her arm and smell like French fries, and I will make sure and leave her a big tip.