As a waitress, people rarely notice me, but I’m always there refilling water, taking someone’s order, or just greeting people with a smile. This job comes closer to people’s lives than you want to. You had over the checks to someone just when their hearts got broken. You serve dessert to a couple marking 50 years together. You are not essentially a part of their story, but you are there for them while life unfolds one table at a time.

This is a part of the job, being there when they need you and going when they dont. I get to notice everything. I see the first date nerves; I know the dad who checks on his phone instead of talking to his daughter. I know the regular who always sits alone but tips like he’s feeding a family. I get to see so many different versions of people around, and I can’t help but imagine how much each one of them must be going through in their life. And so many times, I feel sorry for the ones who come in alone and are drowning in their thoughts.

I work at a mid-tier family restaurant, nothing too fancy or sophisticated. The booths here squeak, the coffee is just okay, and the menu is laminated enough times to survive the flood. But the stories here I’ve seen? Many times better than the Netflix series.

When you work, you learn how to be your best even when the job is demanding. I’ve learned to fake a smile when my feet are throbbing. How calm down when my boss gets on my nerves. To swap out the dishes because there’s a fly on it or because someone forgot to mention they need the gluten-free version. I’ve learned how people treat you like a servant just because you serve food at a booth; it’s not fair or humane. But thankfully, there are some who do have kindness and care toward everyone they meet.

It’s the quiet solidarity that keeps me going more than the tips. The little moments in the day when the cook sneaks me some fries on a rough day, or the dishwasher sings badly to make everyone laugh, or the other waitresses know precisely how hard it is and never judge. This job isn’t glamorous. It’s messy and loud and unforgiving. But there’s something honest about it. It’s real work. And at the end of the night, when the chairs are up and the lights are low, I feel proud of surviving another shift.

So the next time you see a waitress, remember that she’s just a human being like you. Not some girl that takes down orders or wants to be ordered around. Just act with kindness and compassion to anyone trying to do their job, just like how you would like to be treated.