I had heard that at least once in life, we should work in customer service. I used to roll my eyes on that advice, but now I live in it, and it teaches you more about life than any other profession. My name is not essential, nor is the name of the diner I work for; what matters is how you can balance being on your feet for eight hours, carrying hot plates and fake smiles.

I started waitressing because I needed the money for my college bills, rent, groceries, etc. The job seemed much simpler on the outside, take orders, bring food, smile, and repeat. I thought about how there’s is a rhythm to it, an unspoken choreography you only learn with time. You learn to read a table the moment you walk in, who wants chat, who wants silence, and whether they are going to tip well or just blame you for the cook’s mistake.

There are both good and bad days, like any other job. Sometimes, regulars ask about your weekends, coworkers become good friends, and the occasional customer leaves a generous tip just because. Then there are the bad days; the double shifts, rude behaviors, and this one time someone shouted at me because their eggs were too yellow, which I still think is weird.

But the most challenging part? Wearing the mask. You could be going through hell in your personal life, but out on the floor, you’re “Hi! Welcome in!” with a grin. You can’t afford to break down. You’ve got four tables waiting for coffee refills. Yet, there’s a weird pride in it. In surviving the chaos. In remembering complicated orders without writing them down. In handling a 12-top solo and still managing a smile.

Waitressing has taught me more about people than any class I have taken; it taught me how to listen, how to handle bad behavior, and how to stay calm when things are falling apart. I found it to be very humbling, exhausting, and oddly satisfying.

So the next time you dine out, be a little nice to the people serving you, it’ll make things better for them.