Pandemic Blues and the Server’s Plight

I won’t compare the server’s plight to slavery. They do not come close. However, just like racism, the desire from the privileged and the entitled to be serviced at the expense of others’ safety and health, is very much alive and well—and I guess one can’t help but draw parallels between the two.

Before I ruffle any feathers—of course getting your hair and nails done or going out to eat does not make you entitled or a bad person. That is definitely not what I’m getting at, so please don’t be mistaken. As someone who serves the public, we rely on customers, on guests, to thrive in the first place. They’re our bread and butter—we need them as much as they need us. My anger is not directed at the consumer.

Listen, I love my job. Most of the time. I’ve been out of work since March 10th...my job is waiting for me when all of this blows over, but damn if I don’t miss my restaurant. I miss my regulars. I love when people ask for me by name. I love talking to tables, providing good service, solving problems, assisting my fellow servers, and hustling my ass off, earning every dollar in my pocket. I love helping guests have a good birthday, graduation, or anniversary dinner—being a small part of those celebrations and memories often means so much to me.

Okay, except when it’s a 20-top of bratty teenagers on homecoming night with their drunk parents, who collectively tip me less than 15%, despite running me ragged with a full section, requesting separate checks in the most ineffective, confusing manner possible, yet still receiving timely, excellent, personalized service. In that case, it doesn’t mean dick. But I digress.

I miss so much. I miss my coworkers. I miss helping my boss advertise, create alcohol rosters, deal with vendors. I miss pretending I’m an artist with the menu board and my rainbow of chalk markers.

I miss that little adrenaline spike I get during a chaotic Saturday night rush, apron full of cash, heart thumping in my chest. My mind going a hundred miles a minute, the server alley looking like a bomb went off. The cleanup, the cash out, closing everything down. Laughing and bitching and gossiping and story-swapping with my coworkers over a much needed shift drink, or leftovers, or both.

I even miss the feeling of busting my ass for 10+ hours—then going home, stuffing my face, showering, and passing out. I always sleep like a damn baby, without fail.

The point is, I love what I do. It is in my blood. I am not angry with the consumer. I do not hate my job nor the people I wait on. I am a consumer just the same, after all. The difference is, you won’t find me rioting in the streets over being denied a fill-in or a root touch up.

Desiring these things alone do not make you a shitty person. Nor does constantly bemoaning your desperate need to go shopping at TJ Maxx, finish your ugly Pinterest-inspired tattoo, or cut loose over Applebee’s 2-for-$20 deal plus $1 margaritas with your husband. Might make you a bit irritating, a smidge tacky, but not shitty.

However, wanting-no, demanding, people go back to work just so you can enjoy these mundane luxuries, even if it may cost them their life, their families lives—even if it will inevitably lead to the exhaustion of our hospitals resources and staff...now that absolutely speaks volumes about your character.

I cannot imagine a world where most people care deeply about other people. Not when it comes between them and freshly frosted tips, Logan’s Steakhouse, or a BOGO sale at Gabe’s. I think it’s safe to say people will not stay home for the benefit of themselves nor those who will be providing them with the goods and services they so desperately crave.

So, I won’t be getting my hopes up. Call me bitter, call me jaded, call me whatever. You would probably be right. What I will say is this...

At the very least, when everything opens back up...choose to be kind. Tip your hairdresser, barber, tattoo artist, nail tech, delivery folks, baristas, and yeah, your servers (can’t say I’m not a little biased in that area). And hey, tip them well! Tip extra. Again, we’re risking our health, for you. If they did an awesome job, tell them that. Tell their boss. Write a good review online. Let the little things slide. Be patient, have understanding. Thank your mailman, put your shopping cart back, smile and tell the cashier you hope they have a wonderful day. I know I will.

You should do these things anyway, but it’s especially vital now more than ever.

Just be kind. What you put out into the world, how you treat people, that comes back to you full circle. Maybe not in the moment, but eventually it will.

Karma, baby. It is real and it can be sweet as sugar or it can sting like Hell. It is up to you to decide what type of person you want to be, what kind of energy you create, and absorb. Times like these are very pivotal for the human race—disasters tend to dictate who is good, and kind, and brave, and who is...not.

Stay safe, people. Try to be positive. Create a chain reaction of altruism, warmth, and light, during a time when little of each exists. These things are not a vaccine, but they are good medicine.

Much love.

- Whin