I'm Wore Slap Out...

I felt like these shoes by the time I clocked out at work tonight. I went in at 4:30 and in less than ten minutes had four tables going and another one going down. On top of that I had a party of eleven coming in at  the same time as a party of eight. At least the parties were all set up and not due for a hour.

I got my butt handed to me for five hours straight. Hot flashes were the least of my worries... not stroking out was way up there on the list. Sometimes it all goes smooth and sometimes it doesn't. Every server was running around like chickens with their head cut off.

I had a couple of bobbles and a plate of food that got sent back. I kept my head down low and kept on truckin'. By 9:00 my heart rate had returned to normal and so had my limp that makes me look like Festus from Gun Smoke. It ain't easy being a server for thirty three years and not expect the toll to be pretty grim on your feet. At least I have good shoes. My sister gave me a pair of Dansko's a couple of years ago and they have been my feet's saving grace. I carry heavy plates and trays of drinks fifty hours a week. I carry them all on my left arm and serve them with my right. It's kinda thrown my body off...it thinks I weigh 140lbs on my left side and 99 on the right. I am fifty one, have been doing this non stop since college while all through the years working with people that are the age I was when I STARTED waiting tables.

I chose this profession so I really can't bitch (well I can but I shouldn't.)  What grates my nerves is younger servers saying "When I get a REAL job..."

Let's see, I am almost fifty two. While being a server I have bought a house, sold it, bought another and have less than four years til it is paid off. I have raised three kids ... granted they haven't been spoiled rotten by some people's standards.  By millions and millions of less fortunate people's standards they are living the high life. They have a house with heat air conditioning running water,  a bed to sleep in and a cell phone to text on while watching cable TV in their bedroom.

Yep! I'd say their Momma has a real job.

 A fake job usually doesn't tend to help provide for all of that. My husband has always had a "Real" job and I hear him gripe about his a heck of a lot more than I have about my "Fake" job.

We hit a bump on BOTH of our jobs a while back but kept on keeping on with prayers and pushing from many.

I just don't want to sit or work in an office or at a desk. Number one I am WAY too loud. Number two you have to wait for pay day to get money...boy would MY already flimsy bank account be screwed!

Yes it is starting to wear on my body. It is a tremendous amount of physical work (if you do your part) and often stressful. But Heck...I'm gonna get old no matter what I do, why not enjoy it?

I know my limits and have recently pushed myself a bit past them but realizing I still have two teens at home that need a Momma have cut back to six days a week and suddenly feel so much better I am beginning to wonder if maybe I really DO have a "Fake" job?

Things settled down at work after all the bombs went off and all the smoke cleared. I got one last table...

"BINGO!"

A friend of mines brother who was a bartender with his lady (who was a server) and their adorable 14 week old baby.  Got to chat with them since the mine field had cleared and I think they enjoyed having a late night out...baby in tow. The baby was a little doll with her natural Mohawk and dimples on her elbows. I vividly remember that age with my own children. I would creep into their nursery late at night after getting home from  work to simply watch them sleep...it was mesmerizing,  beautiful and a  totally peaceful feeling to watch  something Tim and I had created out of the heat of passion that now I passionately loved more than anything in the world. I told this young couple to enjoy every moment, every turn of the head and smile on the face. You blink and twenty years go by in a flash.

They left and I went to clear their table. They had inadvertently taken the wrong charge receipt (the one with a tip written on it.)

Our bartender used to be the woman's room mate and sent her a text. She called back and had me add a $20 tip.

It's all about friendship. It's all about connections. It's all about Karma.

By the time I got off even the closing servers had left. I was limping and beat but I made enough money to pay all my currently due bills and then some.

I don't watch my kids sleep anymore...I wait up for them to come home. When I hear the front door open it's almost as gratifying as it was to watch them sleep.

So I don't have what most people consider a "Real" job. I don't live what most people consider a "Real" life!

I came across a quote in a book I was reading last night that describes me, my life and my way of parenting perfectly.

"What I had was luck, friends and tenacity born of desperation."

stumble, regroup and try again. You do what you have to for your kids and do an awful lot of praying.

 Call me a server...that's better than being called "Unemployed."

I live a crazy life...no doubt. But I live a full life and have given all my kids a pretty good life as well. We have family fights and disagreements, we have had good times and bad...but we have always had each  other!

Getting up again tomorrow and doing it again...COTTON