Being a waitress is not always as easy and fancy as you think it is. It takes a toll on life, and you start to question everything when someone is rude to you. But one of the most unexpected joys of this job is the kids. Seriously, I love it when these small little creatures walk in and are filled with energy. There’s something about interacting with kids that makes life seem fun, lighter and vibrant. Although many of my coworkers dread seeing a high chair coming out, I silently light up, knowing that there’s a kid here.

What I love the most about kids is that they’re honest, brutally honest and unfiltered. They dont care if the restaurant is packed or that I’m juggling five tables; they want to proudly show me the drawing that they do and ask me if I have seen the most unusual animal, which I had no idea existed. I so love that energy; it’s real and refreshing. It helps us break from the busy routine we have and makes us appreciate the small things in life.

Every Sunday, this little girl comes in with her parents, and she always has the same order, ” pancakes with extra happiness”, which puts a huge smile on my face. I sprinkle a few more chocolate chips than usual, and she lights up like I handed her gold. Her smile is worth more than a tip sometimes. But always worth the effort. Sometimes, the kids play pretend. One boy gave me a rock once and said it was “payment.” I pretended to scan it and thanked him for his generous tip. His mom laughed so hard that she did leave a generous tip. Win-win.

And, of course, not every child is so easy and calm. There are so many who throw tantrums not to eat and spill a drink all around the place while screaming at the top of their voices. But even then, I try to remind myself that this is a whole new world for them, and they are just beginning their life here. Restaurants feel like adventures: big chairs, new foods, shiny spoons, busy grown-ups. If I can make their visit fun, I’ve done something good.

Sometimes, the most amazing part about kids is that they see me, the real true me, not the waitress in the uniform serving them delicious food. Adults can be polite or dismissive or completely ignore me. But kids? Kids ask me my name, tell me their favorite animal, or ask if I have a dog. They look you right in the eye and treat you like a person. That makes you feel visible and heard in this busy world. You think at least a kid wants to know what’s happening in my life; You’re relieved in that sense.

It brings back my hope that in the fast-paced life that we live today, there’s always some room for connection, laughter and a little magic. Most of this comes from a random kid who’s colouring outside the lines of the book, waiting for chicken nuggets, which gets to me every time.

I get to see people at their best and worst; being a waitress means you get to look at situations you don’t want to. Birthdays, anniversaries, first dates, breakups, you name it, I’ve served it with a side of fries. But the most uncomfortable part of the job is seeing couples start to fight, loud and visibly, like nobody around them exists, and they can’t get over that one incident. It’s frustrating because you can’t do anything about it or ask them to leave, so you’re just stuck wondering when to interrupt them to ask for their order.

It usually starts small, a cold silence between both of them while walking into the restaurant and later on, one person is scrolling while the other stares at their water glass. I can always sense the tension before I walk over, and I’ll start with, “Can I get you started with some drinks?” and get back a tight, fake smile and a taunting tone of “Sure, I guess hell have a beer if he can put his phone down”. That’s when I know it’s one of those tables that are going to start an argument with each other.

Sometimes, it’s whispered arguments, others are the kind where they lean forward and hiss at each other, pretending nothing is wrong. A few others start with finger pointing and yelling. I once had to box up a full steak dinner because the guy left in the middle of the main course. His girlfriend sat there crying into her wine. I felt like I was intruding on something I never signed up for.

And then I have to pretend as if none of this happened and go to their table with a smile, fill the water and ask, “Did you want dessert?” while one of them blinks back tears and the other is about to explode. sometimes I want to say, “Hey, maybe this isn’t the best time for crème brûlée?” But of course, I don’t. I do my job and try not to get caught in the emotional crossfire.

What is wilder is how quickly some of them recover. I have seen couples go from yelling at each other to giggling over dessert in just 10 minutes as if I am the one imagining the whole thing. Others leave separately, slamming the door behind them.

Working in a restaurant teaches you so much every day. Love isn’t always roses and happiness; it’s sometimes messy, unpredictable and painful. It’s not my place to judge, but this: if you know you are about to have an entire meltdown over dinner, consider ordering in, just for your sake or mine.