A love letter to the brunch + diner servers of the world
I've been in the industry for over a decade, and I've worked breakfast for over half of it. I currently work in a diner, and despite wanting nothing to do with eggs during my shifts, I often find myself at the counter of a different diner ordering an omelette on my days off.
My server today was a sweetie- a total veteran, and I commiserated with her after she took a frustrating phone order. When I told her I also worked at a diner, her eyes lit up. The tapping of her nails on the POS system, the gentle hum of the BUNN brewing a pot of decaf, the calls of "coming out!" and the sound of the kitchen door being donkey kicked open. Eight plates meticulously balanced on a tray hoisted onto her shoulders. A busser on his break, smelling like a cig, sipping a black coffee at the end of the counter. Plates sticky with syrup, half-eaten middles of hash browns being scraped into the trash and clattering into busbins.
I have nothing but respect for all of my FOH folks in the world, but reserve a special level of reverence for the first-shifters. We see people before they've had their coffee, we have regulars' egg preferences memorized, our lives become intrinsically intertwined with whatever community we serve. Hospo personality is superseded by two tired people just trying their best in the world. There's nothing quite as comforting as a freshly refilled cuppa, a plate of pancakes, and a kind person lovingly calling you "honey".
I see you, I love you. Thank you.