Yesterday was my first day waiting tables. I arrived a half hour prior to opening. I walked in through the kitchen to the dining area and took a seat at one of the booths. A cook came out from the kitchen to take a better look at me then disappeared. A second cook came out promptly to greet me. Shortly after, a girl with tattoos walked in and made a phone call to notify a person I was there. Ten minutes later a guy who looked like an unemployed actor knocked on the glass door of the restaurant disregarding the closed sign. I will later find out his name to be Phil, a twenty-eight year old new hire. While Phil and I were setting up the tables, a waitress walked in with a spandex mini-dress. I shook her hand and she said, “Oh, we’re shaking hands now?” I met two waiters named Chang and Henry in the afternoon. Henry offered to make me lemonade. At one point Henry told me he was on my side but I could not discern the implication behind his comment. A cook kept calling me baby and telling me how beautiful I was every time he saw me. He told me we were going to be good friends.
I speak better Spanish than the Chilean Chicana/o Studies Major who sat across from me on the bus this afternoon.
I removed all the contents from my backpack and found xeroxed copies of quizzes from Buket Bavas, Server Turedi, Elif Celik, Gulpez Oner, and Olgu Yildiz.
I am eavesdropping on three undocumented women talk about their humble errands and racism they endure from bus drivers.
The highlight of my day was standing atop a rooftop spying at rich people in their offices from twelve meters away. A man with an oxford blue button-down scratched his head belligerently and swiveled in his chair to find my friend and I corroborate his derangement. We hurried away after taking an unauthorized photograph.