Day 2. The Bottom of a Totem Pole

My second day of training began at 11am the following Sunday. I arrived exhausted, having stayed up too late the evening before at our friend Dani’s Night at the Roxbury-themed housewarming party.

Mariam showed me to the dark and foul-smelling change rooms, where I reluctantly hung up my bag, and followed her to an utterly ancient punch clock, not unlike this dinosaur I found on Google Images:

Ka-CLUNK. And I was employed.

It was a beautiful, sunny day, so with a steady lunch rush, I was kept fairly busy running back and forth—delivering food, clearing dishes, and trying to stay out of the way. This is fine, I reasoned with myself, pushing away creeping feelings of loneliness and exclusion. I have to learn how the restaurant operates before I begin taking tables.

When we were particularly busy, a customer asked for the location of the restrooms. “Up the stairs, second door on your left,” I said, happy to have a brief moment of human interaction in an otherwise silent day.

“Ooooh. Where are you from?” She asked, picking up on my accent. We chatted for a minute, which turned out to be a minute too long, and from behind me I heard Bashir call, “Laureen.” Ugh. How I hate the way he pronounces my name.

“What are you doing? What do you need?” He said curtly, striding toward us. “Nothing—” I began to explain, but he cut me off, and turned to the customer. “She is new. She doesn’t know anything. How can I help you?”

Unsure exactly what was going on, the woman mumbled, “Um, I was just asking for the toilets, and she—” He interrupts again: “Upstairs on your left. Second door.” She frowned at the unusual exchange that was occurring, shook her head, and headed up the stairs.

Bashir turned to me. “Laureen. You don’t talk to the customers yet. Do you understand this?” I explained that the woman approached me directly, and I felt it would be inappropriate for me to ignore her. To which he simply replied, “Okay,” before turning on his heels and heading back to the bar.

OKAY? Wait, he’s just going to treat me like I’m five and then say OKAY? No apologies, no admitting he was wrong. I wanted to punch him in his stupid bald head.

I was fuming. I was being treated like I was at the bottom of a totem pole, with Bashir’s deviously smiling face looming miles above me. I felt so small.

As five pm rolled around and Thomas walked in to begin his shift, I was told I could go home. Finally. I bid farewell to a couple of staff members and passed Thomas on the way out. “Welcome aboard,” he grinned and patted me on the back. I sighed, and smiled. It had been a long day, but somehow that small comment lifted my sinking spirits. “See you tomorrow,” I said, waving goodbye. 

Maybe I would be the “New Girl” after all…

Love,

ts…