Here We Go Again

Well, I quit my job as a server at the Outback a year and a half ago, in pursuit of a better job, one that didn't require "flair", an apron, latex gloves, slip proof shoes, and an endless supply of pens. Since then I've been a travel agent, a panty pusher (Victoria's Secret), and an Enrollment Counselor. But as of about a week ago my life came full circle and I've once again donned the slip proof shoes and the apron, and I've begun my new life-er, recycled life-as a server. The only difference is that now instead of serving plates of beef, beef, and more beef, I'll be serving plates of fish, lobster, and crab at The Red Lobster. It's hard to say how I feel at this point. Part of me is happy to be doing such straightforward work. It's simple, and I know it in and out. And another part of me feels deflated to be back in this place. You know, the place where someone new you meet asks what you do and you shift in your seat and look down at the floor and mumble "I'm a waitress", hoping they hear something else maybe like, "I'm a massage therapist," or , "I teach underprivelegded kids, " or "I'm a pharmacist." ....anything else really. There shouldn't be any shame in it. It's hard work, it's honest work, and it pays well if you're good, but it makes me feel like I'm ten years behind schedule in my life.