First Person is a daily personal piece submitted by readers. Have a story to tell? See our guidelines at tgam.ca/essayguide.
Illustration by Marley Allen-Ash
When I started my first job working as a server in restaurants, I knew it wouldn’t be an easy one: It meant living in a world full of overtime shifts, sore feet and stained tables. But little did I know, it also meant living in a world where I was deemed inferior to society. There were more than a few encounters where I felt disrespected because of my job – however, one in particular has really stuck with me: I was enjoying the tranquillity of an eerily peaceful afternoon until a middle-aged woman and her son walked through the door. As they were seated at an empty table, they began to argue:
“Mom, I don’t want to go to math tutoring any more. It’s so boring,” the boy said.
“No – do you want to wind up like her when you grow up? Working at a restaurant?” his mother replied.
Standing just a few tables away, I could see her pointing straight at me from the corner of my eye. So few words, yet they packed a punch. I felt furious, insulted and humiliated. How could she say such a thing? What was wrong with being a server?
Admittedly, what the woman said was reasonable. Why in the world should her son aspire to be a minimum-wage worker who deals with greasy dishes coated with the residue of some stranger’s saliva? But what most people fail to realize is that restaurant work requires skill, talent and expertise that only the toughest individuals can handle.
Perhaps her imprudent judgments toward servers stems from the countless stereotypes the word itself encompasses. Let’s be honest, the term “server” has neither allure nor charm to it – even its very definition is pathetic. Etymologically, “server” is derived from the French phrase servir à table – “to serve at the table.” In fact, while the Merriam-Webster dictionary defines a doctor as “a person skilled or specialized in healing arts,” and an engineer as “a person who carries through an enterprise by skillful or artful contrivance,” its definition for servers is merely just “one who serves food or drinks.”
While other occupations are deemed experts or professionals of a field of study, servers aren’t even considered human beings. After all, in a world where the serving class is deemed subordinate in society, an unpleasant stigma attached to servers has propagated ubiquitously, in which wait staff are perceived as personal slaves for the general public.
Yes, the role of a server may seem fitting for inept amateurs who lack real experience in the work force – after all, it doesn’t require a five-step interview with the chief executive of a multinational corporation or a PhD in biomedical engineering to become one. As a matter of fact, when I first became a server, I walked into my interview with nothing more than a Grade 8 honour-roll certificate and one month’s worth of volunteer experience. Surprisingly, one of the first questions I was asked at that interview was, “What would you do if you saw a bag of rotten grapes?”
But beyond the surface, a server is much more than “one who serves food or drinks.” A server is not just another broke teenager or college dropout looking for extra cash.
A server is a competent, talented professional who has mastered just about every skill many other professions lack. They have mastered the art of patience when Patricia spends 30 minutes deciding whether she should get the fettuccine or cut down on the carbs and order a Caesar salad. They have mastered the art of civility when they must try their best to not curse at Karen when she makes a scene about receiving three tomatoes in her dish, even though the menu explicitly said it only comes with three. They have mastered the art of multitasking when they must butter Table 4’s toast, clean Table 5′s mess, take Table 6′s order and refill Table 7′s coffee at the same time. They have mastered the art of innovation when Jim asks for an omelette recommendation; however, the omelette must be gluten-free, lactose-free, oil-free and, most importantly, vegan – meaning it must contain no eggs.
Most people believe that being a server is equivalent to carrying your mom’s pot roast from the kitchen over to the dining table. Instead, imagine carrying the pot roast while balancing four other dishes that are simultaneously burning your hands off, praying the steak knife placed just barely away from the edge of the plate does not fall off, and squeezing through an obstacle course of tables and chairs. I wish I could say that’s the hardest part of the job, but it’s merely just a fraction of what it takes to be a server.
While Gary the accountant or Susan the marketing manager are enjoying their ability to work from home while sitting in a comfortable chair, many of the rest of us are risking our lives during a global pandemic, standing during seven-hour shifts to ensure Sophia and her group of friends ignoring physical distancing receive their “essential” venti caramel macchiato with almond milk and mocha syrup.
As servers learn to navigate the unique perils and challenges of the food-service industry, they hone their toughness and skill in a way few other workers ever manage. So what if they don’t earn $100,000 or possess a degree from Harvard? A server is undeniably just as competent as a neurosurgeon or civil engineer – and frankly, $14.50 an hour plus tips and no student debt seems like a better deal to me. Instead, we must look past the stigma surrounding servers and serve up a portion of the respect they deserve.
Who knows, maybe one day the son of that dismissive woman will respond by saying proudly, “Yes, I do want to be a server when I grow up.”
Jacqueline Ho lives in Markham, Ont.
Sign up for the weekly Parenting & Relationships newsletter for news and advice to help you be a better parent, partner, friend, family member or colleague.