A Means To An End

I hate working in a restaurant. I absolutely hate it. The hours are long, the work is back-breaking and the customers are demanding and rude. Most nights I come home wearing and/or smelling like the entire menu. It’s really a surprise to me that stray cats don’t follow me home every night. So why do it? A means to an end….that’s what I call it. Right now it pays the bills and gives me the money to buy the things I need. I’m not talking about food and clothes, I’m talking about lights and music and speakers and microphones. I’m talking about business cards and advertising and a website. I’ve invested a lot of time, money and effort into getting started in music, and I know it’s going to take a lot more….a hell of a lot more, which means waiting on a hell of a lot more tables. Right now, that’s where the money is, but I still hate it. I’m grateful that I have it, but I still hate it. I’m not one of those people who lead a charmed life, but I know of people who do. It seems from the moment they were born the pieces of their lives just fell perfectly in place in the puzzle and a beautiful picture emerged, leaving them sitting pretty on top of the world. That has definitely not been the case for me. I realized early that nothing is going to come easy. I can get what I want, but I’m going to have to work my ass off for it. I have to work twice as hard as the next guy to convince people that I have the talent to do the job. I have to work twice as hard to convince them to at least give me a chance to prove myself, and it seems that I have to work at least three times as hard to convince others to look past what’s on the outside and see the real me on the inside. I used to be afraid of what they would think when they finally saw the real me, but I’m not anymore. It used to bother me when they doubted my abilities. Now it annoys me more than anything else. I know I have something that they don’t have. Something deep inside of my soul that I was born with. You can call it talent, you can call it ability, you can call it passion….you can call it whatever you want, but it’s there. I know it’s there because I can feel it stirring inside me, like a geyser trying to rise to the surface. It drives me and pushes me to do things that aren’t “normal” or “practical”….like giving away my coffee table so there would be enough clear floor space in my living room to dance. Anyway, I have to keep doing what I’m doing to get where I’m going. I’ll keep waiting tables and collecting tips. I may have to do everything piece by piece, but you have to start with baby steps….like they say, you have to learn to crawl before you learn to walk. Just do me (and all those other hard-working servers out there) a BIG favor….the next time you eat out at a restaurant where someone is trying to cater to your every little whim, make sure you recognize them for it. Leave a tip that shows them you appreciate the time and effort they’ve put into making your experience a pleasant and enjoyable one. Remember, there may be someone like me on the receiving end of that tip….someone who is working even harder to make their dreams come true.