Learning the important lesson that waitressing and squids do not mix

Hello folks,

                        Today, having been searching online for jobs, applying for jobs, and generally overusing the words 'reliable' and 'passionate', it has got me thinking back over previous jobs I have had, and of course, previous embarrassing moments.

I used to work in a restaurant, which on one hand is a great job for me because I love being around people. On the other hand, it is a terrible job for me, because I am about as clumsy and lacking in common sense as any human being can be. Now I had several 'mishaps' over my waitressing career, but one in particular always comes to mind and makes me shudder. I had just started my shift and it was incredibly busy, and needless to say, I was in a bit of a tizz. In this case, there was a big table of ten people, and I, rather ambitiously, was trying to balance a dozen heavy plates on my arm (not a good idea as I have very weedy arms). The pile was teetering a little, and some of the more sober of the group were looking on rather anxiously as I shakily added their plate to the collection. (Can I add here, it really doesn't make a waitress feel any more confident when a whole table falls into absolute silence to watch her clear the plates).

As I tried to pick up the last plate, my tower of plates wobbled  dangerously, to the gasps of the horrified customers. In panic, I grabbed hold of the plates with my other hand, but it was too late for one dirty knife, which fell out of my hand... and into the customer's beer. Beetroot red by this point, I assured the customer I would get him a new beer (he was quite happy with this, luckily for me it wasn't his first beer of the evening by far). After dumping the plates and quickly getting another beer, I rushed back to the table. But unfortunately for me, the story didn't end there. My shoes were ones with the little cat heel (the kind that get stuck in grates and break any lady-like demeanor you had going on) and on the top step I tripped, letting out an unstoppably loud squeal, and spilling the fresh beer all over the wall. Tell me, how can you get back any pretense of calm, confident waitressing after that debacle? At the end of the shift I discovered the table had left me a rather large sympathy tip. Unfortunately it wasn't enough to cover the price of humiliation.

So the moral of this story, children, is, when your mum advises you to buy comfortable footwear, you do it. Because whilst big, square sensible shoes may not look pretty, they are a whole lot prettier than falling on your face. Something to think about.