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February 23, 2007
The Tao of Waitressing
by Lindsay Luckey, insurgent49

     In the past when, I’ve written about a waitressing situation, usually someone has wronged me, in my mind at least, and I’m able to draw some larger moral out of the story.  Pretty convenient, eh? 

     This is not one of those stories.  In this tale, I am the one who did the wronging.  Fear not though, I find someone else’s actions to question, too.

     On a slow day in the restaurant, not too long ago, I was hanging out in the kitchen chatting with the cooks, when one of my co-workers came by, “Hey Lindsay, do you realize you have a table?” 

     “No.  No, I did not.  Thank you for telling me.”  Damn!  I straightened my apron as I hustled into the dining room and saw a woman sitting, with her two sons, menus neatly piled near the edge of the table.  Before I could get through some niceties and offer to get drinks, she stiffly interjected, “Oh, we’re ready to order.”

     “Certainly, what would you like?” I fumbled around in my apron pocket for my notepad that was miraculously lost in one of the smallest areas one can imagine something being lost. Realizing that my pen didn’t work but having already committed to writing down the order, I continued to hold pen and pad.  I was the picture of professionalism.

     “One turkey sandwich, no onion, extra cheese and fries.”

     “Sure, and for the boys?” I said as I pretended to write down her order. 

     ErrrrrRRR.  The record stopped.

     The boys, who’d up to this point been furiously coloring, snapped their necks to look at me.  All three looked at me as if the devil himself were before them.  Suddenly, other details came into focus … a pink watch, a kitten shirt, and lip gloss on the older “boy”.

     Oh dear. 

     “Oh girls, she thought you were boys!”  the mother said. 

     Already being flustered from my late and less than graceful entrance, I was now mortified. 

     “Oh girls, I’m so sorry.  Had I stopped to look more closely I’d have seen that you were beautiful ladies.” 

     I could see from their eyes that they didn’t buy this, but it was true.  They were beautiful girls, with matching “boyish” haircuts. 

     The mother, looking up at me, added, “Oh girls, she doesn’t mean that, she’s just backpedaling now.”

     What?!  Even though that was exactly what I was doing, why was she telling the girls that?

     It seems like there were two ways she could’ve played this: she could’ve reinforced that her girls ARE beautiful, regardless of their ambiguous haircuts.  Or she could have done what she did, and teach her girls about phony people.  Both are good lessons to learn.  Because to be honest, if I had come to the table prepared with pad and pen already in hand and not flustered because I made them wait, I probably would’ve had the good sense to use a gender neutral term and ask instead what the “children” “kiddos” or “spawn” would like to eat. 

     They were beautiful people, I just wasn’t sure what kind.  It’s like when you ask an overweight woman when she’s due.  If you’re not sure, don’t assume.

     After this monumental boo-boo, I was less than thrilled to return to the scene of my crime, but tried to give the table my best service.  I was shocked when the mother made some kind of reference to how boyish the girls were each time I came back to the table.  They looked embarrassed and withdrew each time I came to the table.

     Now, I’ve never been a parent but I have been a kid, and I know that that’s the kind of thing they’ll remember. 

     I don’t blame them for hating me.  I have a feeling that I was not the first person to make the same mistake, nor will I be the last.  But I also think that, if I were their mother, I would want to help them feel secure and pretty in their own skin, not reinforce what they’re already self-conscious about.  At that age, when your parents make a big deal out of something, it lends weight to the issue.

     So, I’m sorry, girls.  But Mom, lighten up.

     Being a kid is tough enough. 







     Lindsay Luckey is a waitress and aspiring Renaissance woman. She lives and works in undisclosed locations in downtown Anchorage, and can be reached at lindsay@insurgent49.com.

     'The Tao of waitressing' appears on insurgent49.com every Friday.
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The Tao
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by Lindsay Luckey







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in-sur-gent (in sur'jent), n. 1. a member of a group which revolts against the policies of its leadership.