Sometimes, reviewing the photo stories I have written in the past few years, in my attempt to not repeat a detail or an anecdote that I have already mentioned, I come across certain feelings that I often talk about in my stories. One of them is my lifelong gratitude for being lucky and for the fact that things have worked out well for me...difficult situations that eventually sorted out by themselves despite all the obstacles. Where and when I was born, who my parents and siblings came to be and the few special people I have encountered, are all like lucky streaks in my life that arouse this feeling that I have been fortunate.
I have already mentioned my good luck with the jobs I found incidentally, without much effort. Considering that finding a job is a big challenge in general when you are a teenager, I feel that I had an easy life. Yes, like everyone, I have also lived through the stressful anticipation of where to apply and what sort of career to choose. But whether it was the long years of waitering, teaching English or photography, those minimal efforts on my part turned out to be fruitful.
At the end of my first year of university, I needed a job for the summer. I had already worked as a dry cleaning delivery boy as well as a waiter at Big Boy’s restaurant. In those days my friends and I used to spend a lot of time in a cafe in a posh neighborhood called Yorkville. One day the bartender Robert overheard me telling my friends about my search for a job. He came over and told me that a new restaurant was looking for staff. Apparently, the skating rink down the block was being converted to a restaurant for the summer. I applied in person the following day, hoping that my fast-food waitering experience would at least make them consider me for a busboy position…after all, the new restaurant and the managers looked very high class and I was just someone from the suburbs with fast-food service qualifications! I crossed my fingers. I needed the money.
Well, they called me a week later and told me I was hired and that the restaurant would open that same Saturday. I was thrilled because not only I had a job but also it was close to our cafe where I could meet my friends after work. I showed up a couple of hours before opening time and it was very exciting…the restaurant looked gorgeous. There were so many people as staff, all waiting for instructions on the menu and tables. They separated us into two groups by calling our names: waiters and busboys. Even though I had no high expectations, I was still disappointed that I was assigned to a busboy position. Waiters made much more money in tips than busboys. They kept calling up the rest of the names and then all of a sudden there was a problem. One of the people, supposedly a waiter, had not shown up. They kept calling his name and nothing! The managers looked upset and then one of them shouted out to all of us, ‘who has waitering experience?’. I do not know why but I raised my hand instantly and I uttered, ‘I do’; the two magic words. They did not bother to look around at the other people, and they gave me an apron saying that I would be a waiter only for that night. One night? So what? Be it! What a great feeling to be a waiter in such an elegant restaurant, even for one night.
The two Maitre De’s Roberto and Daniel explained the menu and ordering system while the customers waited impatiently by the entrance. We were assigned our four tables each as waiters, as well as the busboys who were to help us. The doors opened and the impatient crowd were shown to their tables by the two elegant hostesses, Rachel and June. Despite all the detailed organization by the managers, I can say it was a hectic night full of confusion and unfamiliarity with the kitchen, the bar and the overbooking. We served nonstop until maybe midnight. I worked as if I had been injected with gallons of adrenalin. I served my best and happily but I was exhausted from running around. It was so busy that the couple at one of my tables, sneaked out without paying…they just disappeared. I was stuck with a big bill and was very disheartened. But Daniel told me not to worry, that it was not my fault. Very kind of him!
Finally, the night came to an end. The last of the customers left and I was relieved. I passed a difficult test. The managers and hostesses were all content. They gathered us around them and thanked us for a successful opening night. I was proud of myself. And the tips I went home with? They were as much as a whole week tip at Big Boy’s. But the best part came next day…when I got to work, no one remembered that originally I had been hired as a busboy. Intentionally or unintentionally, I have no clue. But that day was the beginning of years of my life as a waiter in many restaurants.
