First Day Jitters
Starting a new job reminds me a lot of the first day of school. The first day is always a bit like orientation, where you get to know the important things like where the bathrooms are and where everyone eats lunch. And you’re always worried about the impression you make, because first impressions tend to last.
I recently went back to the service industry to earn a little extra cash over the summer. Contrary to the Carrie Bradshaw portrayal, most writers I know are not in Manolos but are struggling to pay their rent. I don’t mind, because it’s a fun social environment, easy cash in your pocket on a nightly basis, and they usually feed you.
I’m working at a bar/restaurant and was told that we could wear whatever we want as long as it’s all black. So, being the freshman of the group, I tried on a bunch of different outfits the night before, trying to look put together but not like I was trying too hard. After a few days, I realized they really mean whatever you want, with girls in shorts, skirts, t-shirts, etc, which I was thrilled about. I can be comfy if I work an early shift and I can dress up at nights if I want to make better money.
Then there’s the whole get-to-know-each-other game of “where are you from? How long have you been in the city?” that people use as an ice breaker, just like those dumb name-and-and-adjective ones I had to do growing up. People may not actually care, but it gets you talking and generally leads to something more interesting in common from there.
You can spot the “cool crowd” pretty quickly. The service industry equivalent of jocks and cheerleaders are the ones with the best schedules who somehow manage to get out of helping out with sidework and always get away with doing shots with their tables while everyone else is busting their ass. They maintain that strange mystique of being envied and resented simultaneously.
Then there’s always the recent graduate- the Matthew McConaghey in Dazed and Confused character. This is the guy or girl who has worked there so long that they tell stories of the good old days, referencing people they used to work with and the crazy times they used to have. They also tend to hit on every new hostess over the age of eighteen, and spend every night wasted and every day complaining about how drunk they were the night before.
So far, I’m approaching it the way I did in high school- befriend everyone at first, and do your best to impress the faculty so that they trust you from that day forward. Then, when you discover how to get away with the tricks that come with every trade, they’ll never suspect the class president.