waiting

for many summers i was a waitress. my first summer at the restaurant, i worked behind the ice cream counter, made milkshakes, sundaes, cones, sprinkles, filled bins of strawberry topping, tubs of riece's pieces, wiped down the counter, refilled drinks, stocked glasses and cups, heated apple pie in the microwave-- basically ran my butt back and forth from one end to the other.
then the next year i graduated to full time waiting. my domain was larger, and i ran myself between a maze of tables, customers, crying children, orders sitting under heat lamps, more drink refills, doggie bags, check please and the ever important question -- did they leave me (a good, or any) tip??? the night never seemed to expand past that. some nights were crazy; i cried, i fought with coworkers, i yelled at busboys. other nights were awesome- my tables were nice, we chatted, i got my ego stroked when i told people where i went to school and they replied "oh, i hear that's very goooood." still, no matter how good or how bad any one night in particular seemed, the final summary of what it was worth it came down to one thing - cash money, in hand, how much did i have?
don't get me wrong - summers were a blast. in fact, i live for summer. but, year after year, the novelty started to fade. the moment i noticed that i was refilling an iced tea for the 10,000th time, or when i finally learned how to tell the difference between diet and regular just by looking at them, or the idea that someone was really spicing up my day by ordering a root beer with cherry syrup in it, i realized something - i felt like my job had no meaning. no ultimate impact in the world, in the scheme of things. i was the provider of burgers and fries, a few jokes, a smile, and within 15 minutes of a customer leaving the restaurant he or she would forget me for the rest of his or her life. my work was unimportant.

so about a year ago i found out i was going into the peace corps- i was going to bulgaria to teach english. the inertia of my life changed. i was going to be a world traveler, learn a new language, meet new people, teach them things, make a mark in their lives, be everything that i thought i ought to be. i was going to be important. the world would surely change because of me.

now, i am one semester down and 8 months into this experience. i left school today feeling about as defeated as i usually do after spending all morning with 15 year olds. what did they learn today? i asked myself. how to spell patrick swayze. nothing. who knows what they learned. as i was thinking i passed the cafe where my friend works, a young girl around my age who six days a week serves beer and soft drinks and probably makes about 250 coffees every day. i flashed back momentarily to my waiting days. i remembered how unfulfilled i felt.
now i have a job that i wanted for a very long time, and it is the most difficult thing i have ever done in my life. there is no cash in hand to quantify how successful i am at it, there is no immediate gratification. a bright moment in the day is marred by several frustrations and the precise feeling that i was hunting for - feeling like my work was going to change the world - that feeling is nowhere to be found.

waiting tables is about anticipating what needs to be done and meeting that need as quickly as possible. the faster you go the better you are. the work becomes a dance, picking up things, dropping them off, at the right place at the right time. this job is essentially the same, except it's like i'm partially deaf and sometimes blindfolded. i'm still stumbling around. the best i can hope is that after a few summers, a few years, i'll finally get it. all i can say for now is, i'm still waiting.