Here comes a rant...
I’m a firm believer that everyone should be required to work in food service at some point in their lives. The earlier the better, as this will prepare you for a lifetime of not acting like the asshole around which the world orbits every time you enter a restaurant.
I waitressed for a bit in college… at a rib joint. I walked out about two weeks in and never picked up my first paycheck. I did it again after graduation, this time at a steakhouse. (There are no vegetarian restaurants in Greenville. Clearly.) This was a much better situation. I liked the location, the managers, the money. Damn, servers make good money. Nothing like the bar staff, of course, but probably more than I make at my “real” job. (PS – Serving is a real job. A really effing hard job, too.)
I learned quickly that I was out of place on the staff. I had just attended a 4-year university. I considered the waitressing gig temporary until I found a “real” job. I didn’t drink on the job. I didn’t eat the steaks.
I also apologized constantly. For everything. Even when someone else did something wrong. Food service is challenging and humbling work. The customer is always right. No matter what. And they think you are worthless… most of the time. I didn’t mind it though. I’m pretty good at appeasing obnoxious people. Servitude is my forte.
If I didn’t have a customer bitching at me, I was apologizing to other servers for bumping into them, for them bumping into me, for anything. Until one day I said sorry and one of the other waitresses replied, “What are you talking about? I just got in your way… and I’m not sorry. Why would you be?”
Hm. Good point. Apologizing is in my nature. It’s a reflex. I feel bad about everything. I never want to let anyone down, to mess anything up or to get in anyone’s way. I think I’m really good about admitting fault, so good that sometimes I do it when there is no fault to admit. I have a bad habit of wanting to please everyone but this sometimes leaves me feeling, how shall I say, suffocated? Stagnant? Trapped?
About a year ago I started to feel all of those things about my life. I was simultaneously overwhelmed by my new adult responsibilities and painfully underwhelmed by the monotony of the “real” world. My friends were all moving on to jobs and grad programs in big cool cities and I felt like I was going nowhere. I had some ideas of things I’d like to do but I didn’t want to upset people at work by quitting or disappoint my parents. So I sat and I tortured myself with daydreams about another life.
Eight months ago I started this blog. I saw it as my creative outlet. It pulled me out of my depression and gave me something constructive to do. It has since become a severe (but perhaps productive?) addiction.
Six months ago I realized my blog hobby could be a career if I really wanted it to be. Yes, I have a BA in Spanish and yes my job title is Brand Strategist and no those things don’t qualify me to do anything nutrition or food related. So I decided to go back to school. I applied to a Masters of Human Nutrition program (yep, the same RD program Kath is in now) and (assuming I’d get in) also enrolled full-time as a night student at the local tech college to start getting some credits out of the way.
Four months ago I was accepted to the program. Good thing the night classes weren’t a waste because they have consumed my life (and subsequently ruined Stew’s, probably) for the past 120 days. Heads up, full-time work + full-time school is a terrible idea. I haven’t felt comfortable talking about this plan because 1) my employer didn’t know and 2) the financial stars have not yet aligned for the Masters program. But what the hell, right? This is the plan for now anyway.
About two months ago my yoga studio announced that it will start a hot yoga teacher training program (like hot-yoga, not hot-yoga-teacher) this summer. I missed the deadline to apply because I knew I’d be leaving for school, but asked to be considered anyway. I got in and I plan to come back into town once a month to complete my training.
And finally, a few weeks ago I quit my job. Today was my last day.
I have felt very guilty throughout this entire process. I feel bad about leaving my job when so many other people are getting fired. I feel bad about studying or working every second of every day instead of spending it with Stew or keeping up with my friends and family. And I feel bad that, try as they might, my parents’ sound life advice fell on deaf ears. But you know what? Nobody else wants me to feel bad.
And so an amazing thing has happened. I’m not apologizing anymore. I realize it’s ok to quit or to start over or to just pause for a bit. If you don’t at least try, you’ll have no one to blame but your self because no one else will be apologizing for holding you back. Believe me. That’s all on you.
So I’m stepping out of my comfort zone (waaaay out, like into a chemistry lab) and trying something new. People do it all the time. The world keeps on turning. And for the record, my parents, my coworkers, my siblings, my friends, my cats and my unbelievably supportive boyfriend are all on board with it. It’s a little bit scary and it might even be a little bit selfish, I guess. But I am not sorry.
If you’re thinking about trying something new but feel like the world is holding you back, consider the possibility that you may be the one in charge for once. Do it now. Do it now. Do it now.
