This message was given to me on a receipt from one of my favorite customers. I cannot remember what it means. Something about old and new friendships.
I was having a talk with my roommate the other night about the kind of humanitarian work she does. Sometimes I feel like the work that matters the most you do for free, or for a stipend, or for not very much. It's one of those backwards things about life I think. When people in casual conversation ask you how much you get paid and you can't give them an answer. The hardest and most humbling work is the kind that throws you a bone. I never fancied sitting at a desk, my butt starts to get achy. Love to wear turtle necks, blazers and trousers often but not every day. I like my work to serve people, but not through a computer or over the phone. There is nothing wrong with liking that kind of thing, I have friends who love office life.
For me, I always liked to be moving. I loved volunteering in college and even before college. You lose yourself in the greater picture of what you're doing.
There was one service job that did pay. I wasn't planting trees, raising money, or awareness. I was serving food and coffee. And I always went overtime, making fruit skewers, and writing Chinese characters in my lattes. Most people I've worked with hate serving, but I loved it right down to my very last day where unfortunately, I never said goodbye. I didn't know how to.
I loved to sit and listen to how people's day went. I mean, I had no choice. But apart from my job description, I quite enjoyed learning about other people outside of myself. I loved to learn how to say "Thank You" in another language. I infuse the game of order-taking with really cheesy jokes and quirky innuendos. As cheerfully cynical as I am, those mornings, and nights were the most magical. The pay was alright, but a part of me didn't want to leave. I loved the dim lights and annoying music playlists, the restless chatter that grew miraculously from the silence of 6am, roaring at 12 o clock noon, and simmering towards evening shift. I loved writing messages on receipts for people or reading the ones people left behind. After making a new friend through serving, I'd walk away after an elaborate goodbye and play the guessing game with myself on how they'd choose to follow-up. Will they leave a note? Will they leave a number? Will they follow me to the POS? Will they come back and sit in my section? Will they invite me to sit with them?
I felt like I had a window into people, and like I was in the midst of a grand epicenter of interwoven cultures, paradigms, ideas, and experiences.
It was always guessing. I think my favorite thing about serving people, while it was not the type of service I was used to, I still felt very close to the community and I still like to believe that whatever work I did made a difference to somebody. However small it might have been. It was the only job I held where I never knew what to expect. I was like a surfer, learning to adjust to whatever tide came my way. Even when business was so fast, and I thought I'd internally combust, I never lost sight of how a smile and simple physical or eye contact could impact somebody's day. It's the very little things. Really.
Those days were full of wonder but everything for it's time I guess. I don't know how much my spirit is worth. My work has graduated to a multitude of different projects. At one point, both community and corporate. All in all I just like doing. Whatever I do, whether or not I get paid. I wish that was how the world could be. Every so often, I have the luxury of meeting someone else who likes to just do. I'm glad that I left my job as a server. Serving in a global or political capacity is very different. It is about information, awareness, and having a platform. Yet still, when I align my experiences with volunteerism, with my mentality as a waitress, I find a profound connection with the way I've approached both. As if they were one and the same.
I am unsure whether that's a reflection of something in my nature or a commentary on the stalemate of working class America. I believe many of us ideally wish for meaning in our job description, but when work is just "work" that thing that you dread waking up for, it's common to separate work from the altruistic, meaning. Many people have mouths to feed and are struggling just to break even, Many people are trying to restructure their lives in whatever way.
Is it possible though, that all positions no matter the pay grade (or whether or not they pay) have an essence of that fulfilling meaning? What would serving have been like had I not viewed my customers as people, and instead looked at them as dollar bills?
And I used to tell myself that until I could make enough money to live out my dream of going somewhere, Thank you, would be the next best thing to living that dream of traveling.
Hence, here are some ways to say thank you that I picked up from waiting tables:
Kitos (Finnish)
Ich Danke Ihnen(German)
Danke(German)
Dankjewel(Dutch)
Obrigada(Portuguese)
Salve( "Cheers" Portuguese)
Sante ("Cheers" French)
Grazie (Italian/Maltese)
Grazie mille (Thanks a million)
Yegeneyeley (Eritrean)
Arigato Gozaimasu(Japanese)
Domo Arigato(Japanese)
Salamat(Tagalo)
Terimah Kasih(Indonesian)
Xie Xie (Mandarin)
A Wanu Kaka (Fon)
Merci Beaucoup (French)
Tousand Tag ("A thousand Thanks" In Norwegian)
Takk(Norwegian)
Sukria (Hindi)
Chokran (Arabic/Also said in Sudan)
This (as "Thank You" and You're welcome in Sign Language)
Efharisto (Greek)
Hvala ti (Croation)
Dios bo'otik (Yucatec/Mayan)
Gamawo (Korean)
Qathlo (Klingon