I think we take the world of waitressing way too lightly. They have a tough job, one which I will gladly pay someone else to do. I think it takes a lot of talent and grace to serve people food in restaurants. I certainly can’t do it. My first paying job was at the Jackson’s Point Salvation Army camp on Lake Simcoe. I was hired to be a waitress in the Officer’s dining room.
The camp itself had two functions. One, it was a retreat for Salvation Army personal to come and get some R&R. The other was a summer camp for under-privileged kids to get out of the city for a week.
There were three categories of waitress at the camp. OK, I realize we must now call them “Servers”, because it is sexist to use the term waitress, but don’t shoot the messenger. That is was they called us. By the way, I still call people who serve me at restaurants waitress and waiter. I don’t really see the problem. But I digress...
The most prestigious waitress position was to serve the officers, those hard-working SA people who had come for a vacation. The next in the ladder of importance was, you guessed it, those who served the children. And then there was the lowly of lowlies, those who served the servers and other staff.
You might think then, that I was something special because I had been chosen to serve the top brass. The problem was, whoever had made this decision did not know me. Let’s just say, I am somewhat server challenged. However, it did not take long for them to figure this out. I would like to say that I was promoted, but when you start at the top, there is only one way to go. I was sent to serve the staff.
I didn’t mind actually. I preferred not having to follow all the etiquette and special behaviour in serving the Officers. I was free to be myself. I was free to make mistakes. And I did. Many of them.
I did manage to make it through the summer without getting fired. Not without some ribbing though. I remember one night when we were between camps, we had a staff night full of games, food and revelry. One particular activity was making imprompture skits depicting various staff members. One skit was of a very confused and messed-up waitress who could not remember what she was doing. I can’t remember if I recognized myself off the bat, but when the answer was revealed, it was indeed me.
Overall, it was a lovely summer. I had my friends Francis and Patty. I feel in love, had some adventures, and had lots of fun.
One night, some of us, including my good friend Frances, snuck out of the camp for a midnight romp. We were lead by no other then the camp director’s son.
We walked in the moonlight down towards Jackson’s Point. On the way back, we saw a mysterious figure standing by the lake, cloaked by the shadow of the moon-light on the trees, wearing a fedora hat and long coat. Later we discovered he also sported a long hunting knife. Not that I’m into hunting, but it added to his mystique.
We stopped to chat. He happened to be a counselor at the neighbouring boys’ camp. He was so dreamy. I fell in love at first site, at least what I could see in the moonlight.
Unfortunately for me, he had his sites set on my friend Patty. It didn’t stop me from pining after him. Days later, he came by our camp, looking for Patty. He was even dreamier in daylight.
I remember one evening when I was on duty, standing in the staff dinning room preparing for supper. I happened to look out the window and saw him there, waiting for Patty. My heart stopped. I looked longingly, wishing it was me he was waiting for. Alas, the heartache of the teen girl, especially in the 70s.
Not long after that, a miracle happened. Patty dumped him. Now was my chance. You would think that I would have had more pride then to be willing to be the rebound girl, but no way. I was there with bells on. Dream of dreams, he become my dream.
I lived a very sheltered life. I had been brought up in a Baptist straight laced puritanical kind of world, so our courtship didn’t go much further then holding hands, an arm around the shoulder and a peck on the lips.
It had not been that long since I had discovered the facts of life (My sister sat me down one day to impart her knowledge, for which I have always been grateful) and I was still recovering.
Still, in the two weeks left of camp, it was a nice experience. Then I would be going home to Toronto, and he would be returning his northern roots.
When the camps were over, most of the staff was sent home. There was some end of season activities that had to be done, and so some select few were allowed to stay a few extra days. My friend Francis was one of them.
Despite all of my excellent(?) skills as a waitress, you might be surprised (or not) to know I was not one of them. So, home I went.
Little did the powers that be know, I had been convinced by Francis towards a most dastardly deed. Once home, I bought a bus ticket back to Jackson’s Point. Under the cover of dark, I snuck back into the staff cabin to hang out. We had some fun times once she got off duty. Otherwise, I was hidden away.
I don’t remember how long I was there in hiding, but one day, Mrs. Camp Director happened to take a stroll through the cabin. My friend had already left for her morning chores. I was still in bed. I heard someone come, and quickly hide under the bed but to no avail. Mrs. CD found me and dragged me out. I think she was annoyed not just because I had snuck back in, but also because she had been so glad to see me go, only to have me once again be a thorn in her side.
So, the summer was over. My dreamy had gone home. He did come down a few times to visit, but he eventually went back to Patty. I still think of him warmly.
I eventfully went home for good. I was never invited back the next summer, though my friend Francis was. I got myself a job at the Woolworth’s Lunch counter down on Yonge Street in Toronto. I didn’t last long there, as you might well understand, but that is another story. I guess I was just not cut out for being a waitress, eh, server.
Thank you, all you servers out there. You are my hero!
