My fellow servers
- Feb 4, 2020
- 6 min read
I can't fucking do it, anymore.
I repeat. I can not fucking do it anymore
Serving-Is-Shit
I've been a server for as long as I can remember. It's a great industry to be a part of... when you're young, paying bills, and if you enjoy keeping busy. However, it's an extremely selfish and difficult industry to leave.
Why? You ask.
Well, servers have the ability to make really good money. Like car or real estate salesmen, they can generate insane wealth in a short period of time. Just like a car salesman whom can make $4000.00 in one sale, servers can make hundreds in one day (if you're at the right spot). However, its a huge hit and miss. It's an unstable and un-predictable kind of financial whirl wind. And to be honest, it's also taxing as fuck and equally annoying.
I used to love serving. It used to be my world. I felt empowered by being an amazing server. My feedback was rarely negative, and I really flourished as a server. I had crazy highs (cloud 9) experiences when I was a server, meeting some really awesome people along the way. It was my goal to create an experience, and be the best damn server that the table had ever experienced. I went in to each shift with the mindset "I want to be remembered", which I often was. It was empowering, to say the least; however, it was draining.
Servers really are actors. They are. The film industry ought to recruit some of us, cause the "server voices" and fake smiles are seriously something special. Servers have to pretend to give a shit about petty things, like ranch dips and marinara sauce - when we don't fucking care. We have to put our best smiles on when we are being rudely talked-down to, and we have to hide our tears in the back-room after having a table yell at us for kitchen errors. There is no patience from guests now-a-days, or understanding of bill-times (aka which table ordered first or how long certain items take to make). We wear salsa and dressing stains home, and end up with butter in our hair.
How did we manage that? Who knows.
We pick receipts out of the garbage, and have melt-downs when the computer goes on the fritz. We go hours without eating, and fight UTI infections from not being able to go to the bathroom. We don't get breaks, and we are on our feet for hours on end. But you wouldn't know any of this, because we are actors. We pretend everything is 100% cool, hiding alllllll that shit from your sight. We simply can't ruin your experience.
Yeah. I know what you're going to say - "servers make great money".
For one: This is both true and false.
And two: We go through hell and back to do so.
Guys think they can grope each girl, and impatient people think they can throw a fit to get their way.
Everyone wants a discount or a free meal, and people complain about the smallest mistakes.
One woman has 800 allergies, while her best-friend just invented an entirely different meal on the menu. K cool, the kitchen staff is gonna love that one.
The days were either slow as fuck and daunting, or busy as hell and crazy beyond belief.
Beer kegs need to be changed, and back's are thrown out doing it.
People are either kind and pleasant, or rude - entitled assholes.
Oh, and NO lemon gets sliced, without the corresponding finger, too.
But you don't see the literal blood, sweat, and tears. Why? Because we are actors.
Bitching and complaining about serving, was not the point of this post.
What is the point, however, is this.
Serving is fucking amazing. For a short time. And then it's shit, for a long time.
I seriously can't serve anymore. I used to adore serving people. It used to fill my cup, and lift me up. I used to love the challenge, the busyness, the changing dynamics and new faces. I used to seriously look forward to my job.
But now? Not so much.
Recently, I've been having mental breakdowns before work. I've been struggling to fall asleep, and then struggling to wake up. My anxiety about my next shift is constantly increasing, and the amount of fucks I give as a server, is now limited. I really just don't enjoy it, anymore. Actually, dare I say - I despise it.
I'm over it.
I'm meant for so much more, and serving is not serving my purpose.
I always knew I was meant to be of service to others. I've known this my entire life. But when you stop being of service to others in a way that lights you up, you literally have what feels like "allergic reactions" to it.
Your body will tell you when it's time to leave, but the question is: will you listen?
When you are doing things against your heart, and against your soul and life purpose, you experience weird things. You literally repel the thing causing you angst and pain, from the inside-out. Rashes, anxiety, impulsive moments, emotional eating, strange behaviours, irritability, heart palpitations etc etc, are all clear signs. The universe is trying to tell you, "this isn't for you" anymore.
I get it. It's hard to leave what you've always known. It's hard to leave your source of income, taking on a huge pay-cut. It's hard especially when you don't know what exactly it is you desire. You don't know your who, what, where, when, how, or why.
People talk about their niche, yet you have no idea what that could ever possibly be, for you.
I get it sis.
It's scary. and it's hard.
However, I'm fucking over it.
I have about 0.0 answers.
I have no idea what I'm going to do, how I'm going to do it, or why I'm going to be an impulsive dumbass - but I'm all in. I have been suffering sheer panic attacks, mental breakdowns, numbness, fatigue, hives, itchy spells, anxiety and "sick days", because I just can't fucking do it, anymore.
I was parked out front of work, balling my eyes out, dreading going into my shift. I was trying to talk myself up for it, in order to put my best foot forward. I was trying to talk myself into just going. "Just make the cash to pay the bills and call it a day" - but I couldn't. I couldn't do it. The pressures, the micro-management, the thought of serving was sending me into a spiral of tears. I was already exhausted, overworked and completely drained. I was already feeling like a heavy bag of bricks. I was already "done" with the idea of it. I couldn't fathom trying to put on a fake smile...
SO, I didn't. I drove off and said I was sick.
Call me a coward, pathetic, a loser, or whatever you'd like.
I don't really care what others say. I don't really care if someone thinks my actions were impulsive or insensitive.
Honestly, they kinda were.
Actually, I wont lie. They definitely were.
But I was disrespecting myself, by not listening to my intuition or my needs.
Why am I sharing this?
Well, someone has to. I will always be authentic as fuck, honest, and real. Girl, my highlights have lowlights, and my lowlights have highlights.
Yafeelme?
We all struggle. We all get in these ruts, falling back into our old patterns, habits and behaviours. They're safe, and they're familiar (and they are why I am sharing this).
Ask yourself: Are they helpful?
Likely not.
Seriously babe.
If you're desperately sick of your soul-sucking job - change it.
If you know what you want, but fear going after it - just take the leap.
If you fucking dread going into work every single day - don't go. Fucking quit.
Quitting isn't failing and failures aren't always quitters.
Quitting something takes just as much balls, as starting something. Sometimes you need to quit, in order to progress. I'd rather quit the shit I hate - the shit that is holding me back, than suck it up. I'd rather quit, in order to make room to grow, than stay complacent and stuck. I'd rather quit the shit that is soul sucking, than not. Thats the shit that is stopping you. Your pride of "not being a quitter" is stopping you from living a fulfilling fucking life.
READ THAT AGAIN
... Your pride of "not being a quitter" is stopping you from living a fulfilling fucking life.
The universe wont fail you. I swear, it won't. Sure, it might feel like it is every once in a while, but it's not. Rather, it will likely surprise the shit out of you. It will redirect you into an entirely awesome, scary, and kickass, way.
Chase your dreams, because life is far too short.
Go broke. Spend the money. Travel the world. Chase your dreams. Do whatever lights your fucking heart on fire.
I promise, you'll come out on the other end, strong as fuck, and happier than ever.
xo
Dee
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