I enjoy it because number one, it best suits my personality and skills set and number two, has always provided pretty well for me. I can remember making about $13,000 a year when I first started doing it full time in the late seventies. I peaked at a net income of over $70,000 while working at the airport.
Not bad for a college drop out.
It has its ups and down, but what job doesn't?
I don't think there was one Hispanic working in the restaurant where I first worked. That's hard to find these days.
Boy, the times have times changed
I think working in the service industry so long is also what helped shape my opinion of minorities in the work force.
A couple of true facts I researched:
(2016)
The restaurant and foodservice industry is one of the most diverse in the United States. It employs more minority managers than any other industry. Women represent 55 percent of the restaurant workforce, and more than a fourth of all foodservice managers are foreign-born.
Over 9.5 million people worked in restaurants and bars in August of 2011 with 8.6 million working in non-supervisory positions. In 2010, 52 percent of these workers were women, 11 percent were African American, 6 percent were Asian, and 22 percent were Hispanic or Latino.
I can say with full confidence, and will, that my Latino and Hispanic co workers have always been some of the hardest working people I have ever met and are more often than not, the life blood of a restaurant.
So with all that rant said and done...have a funny story about work tonight.
I went into work at six PM. I wasn't a closing server so really didn't know what kind of money I'd make. Closing servers get to suck up all the money after all the other servers are cut from the floor.
It wasn't super busy but we had a crazy, and I mean crazy one hour pop.
It was like someone had driven them all together in a Greyhound bus up to the door of the restaurant and let them all pile out at once.
I was so in the weeds it wasn't even funny.
*For peeps who don't work in the industry, "In the weeds" mean you're so buried and behind that you can't even see a way out."
I normally don't have to ask for help from others and didn't for about forty five minutes. I was close to going down in flames, with sweat running down both sides of my arm pits.
I went into the kitchen with an armload of dirty dishes, repeating my mantra over and over again, so as to remember what I needed to do or ring into the computer next.
One of the Hispanic cooks working Sautee', the closest station by the dish room, stepped off line and took every item from me and carried them all to dish room. Then he did it again less than two minutes later. Five minutes later a food runner (also Latino) saw me headed through the dining room, once again on my way to the dish room with another bobbling load, and relieved me of my unstable stack of dirty plates. He did it several more times within one hours' time.
It was like the the instructions on old shampoo bottles... "Lather, rinse and repeat."
With their help, two minutes later I was back on top of the game.
It almost got out of hand and would have panicked without their help.
With their help, my tables all had an amazing experience and I made pretty great money in the span of less than three hours.
After the rush, I went to the expo line and announced "Attention Kitchen, you rocked that...and job well done."
Not one of my customers' dishes came out late or got sent back and everything that hit my tables was on point.
It's a pretty terrific kitchen staff I work with and the main reason I am able to make the money I do.
Massey had made brownies yesterday for me to take to work and had them all in a gallon size plastic bag in my trusty lunch box. I tossed the baggie on the counter of expo, thanked every one of them (all Hispanic but one) and told them to enjoy the brownies.
If you've ever been a server, there's nothing worse than the kitchen crashing during a 'Hard Push' ...and it was a pretty hard push.
After all was said and done, I did my side work and cleaned my station.
I clocked out, with a hefty wad of bills in my apron.
I went to the back of the kitchen to retrieve my umbrella (never leave home without one in Florida) and get my now empty lunch box from my locker. I had brought treats for the dishwashers and sous chef as well.
Another female server was talking by the lockers with about three other cooks. They were all four Latino.
Here's the thing about Latino women talking with another Latino, to a JawJa Gurl, born and bred.
Number one, they speak extremely animated, fast and furiously and number two, always seem highly irritated for some unknown reason.
I'm sure American women sound the same to Latino women who aren't fluent in my language.
So I'm getting my things out of my locker, kinda halfway listening to her when I hear the word "Gringo".
I was totally kidding, but said (being funny) "Hey, hey, hey..don't be talking about us white folk while I'm still standing here!"
She immediately said "Oh no, no,no,no it was nothing like that! A friend of mine recently married a white guy and was just telling them how well they are doing together... really!!"
All the cooks started to chuckle. The server was laughing as well, still insisting she wasn't talking about me.
Then as I walked out of the kitchen to go home, slowly shook my head but smiled at her, and said ...
"Puta please!!"
I've never heard cooks laugh so hard or much and enjoyed making them laugh after such a really, really tough but successful shift. The server was cracking up as well.
Here's the thing...
When you work in a great restaurant, you're all Familia.
Simply said, there are good people and bad people in this world. Nothing else about them really matters.
I'm not the best person in the world, but most certainly not the worst.
I consider not being the worst a compliment, along with my graying hair and wrinkles, feeling like I've earned all three...sometimes the hard way.
I think Tim may (most probably) sometimes think to himself, "What the hell was I thinking when I asked this crazy woman to marry me?"
I have a pretty quick wit and sharp sarcasm seems to come easily to me. Both are excellent tools of survival in this world we live in today.
I'll point a finger at wrong doings in a heartbeat and extend a hand to help the wronged just as quickly. We need and have to support each, other instead of tear each other apart.
Tim married his complete opposite. Together, we complete each other. That's a total package.
It's been a long journey for us. We nearly lost everything; after twenty years of living on easy street...to almost ending up on skid row with our three young'uns forced to watch their parents' debacle of feeling like failures.
In hindsight, think our three kids needed to witness our fail...and ultimate survival.
Our kids learned, at the exact time in life they needed to, how life can simply change on a dime. They saw how quickly comforts, taken for granted can be taken away. They learned they may have to fight like crazy but also to never, ever give up.
It was the single greatest lesson Tim and I could have ever taught them about navigating life.
They have seen our struggle and they have seen us survive. They have been taught to be accepting of others, whether it be with help from or learning to help others.
More poignantly put:
This world needs to stop hating because of race, religion, immigration status or Tweets. As I said before, what matters more is whether you are a good person or a bad person.
Good things happen to good people.
Bad people are the minority in this world, it's time for us to show them who's in charge...and certainly isn't them.
That's the minority we need to be worried about.
Live your life as if there was no tomorrow, because it is never gauranteed.
Be the best person you can and always strive to be a better one.
That is the single thing you can do to help the world beat the evil odds.
Till next time...
COTTON
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