There's something kind of horrible about going back into food service. I'm part waitress, part catering floor staff, part cook and part barista in a huge museum after a merciful ten year hiatus from anything restaurant-y. For your foot pain, you get quick and wry and strong or you get out, which I think are good things, but you also get beat up and, in my case, feel like you've just slipped down a notch in the classes.
Yes, I'm sure there are classes.
Now, I don't really know if this is my perception of how we are treated, collectively, or if there's an unfortunate wealth of truth in how I feel. Not the part where I'm of a lower class, but the part where I'm treated like that several times a day. I'd love to say that no customer has ever said the words "your class" with an unmistakable sneer down the nose, but that happened last week.
The opportunities for my mind to expand and my future job application to be padded nicely are huge. I'm making friends with the museum librarian and the biology lab curator, get to take my kid there for free as many times as we want, and am making sweet coffee music on a gorgeous roadster of a cappucino machine. If there is some way in my life to own a coffeeshop with books and freedom to have my family with me, I want that.
Meanwhile, I'm slinging hash in an environment full of fascinating things and learning loads about people who think they're pretty darned important and impactual despite their utter greyness. Grey is a lovely colour, but the grey mixed with a touch of mean is just plain unpleasant to deal with... and I'm supposed to wait on these people.
Museum castes. Now I've seen them in two museums and they both frustrate and amuse me. From a sociological standpoint, it would be handy for me to move up from this museum to something truly spectacular... maybe the Smithsonian. Studying the human to human behaviour there would be incredible, particularly among the staffers. I can barely imagine the bullshit that flies inside their hallowed halls and perfect exhibit spaces.
All I can do to combat the classism is to surprise my guests with stellar manners, excellent service, and a warm smile. If that fails, the walk-in cooler is really great for swearing mightily without witnesses.
