Servers are people too

I am a server. "Waiter" and "waitress" have become archaic terms.

I do not don a frilly apron, and the line cooks are not wearing chef hats. We in the restaurant business are people, too.

Now, before I launch into what some may consider a long-winded tirade on the evils of capitalistic America and the service-providing companies it has created, let me just say this: I love working in a restaurant. I love the pressure and the of-the-moment constancy and the immediacy of every demand put upon every person affiliated with running a restaurant.

That being said, I must risk sounding like a skipping CD and underscore the fact that we are people, too. This is our job.

It is my sole responsibility to present your food perfectly and assist you in your "total dining experience," true. But, and here's something many people who frequent my (and undoubtedly others') restaurant like to ignore and/or forget: I'm human. I will make mistakes. I will forget your extra ketchup. I will accidentally leave your kid's chocolate milk at the bar while I frantically expo my 10-top's well-done steaks. I will not see your payment, and you'll have to sit an extra minute waiting for me to notice.

I'm not trying to excuse my shortcomings. I fully accept responsibility for these mistakes, and I honestly try harder each and every time I serve. I'm just trying to put a face on the black-garbed blur you spend maybe an hour of your life with. I am sort of in school, worried about my flat tire, struggling to find an apartment, and trying to put all of this aside to better serve you. I could be your baby-sitter, your daughter's best friend, your daughter herself.

So, please, is it so much to ask you to return my smile? To take 10 seconds from your assuredly pressing conversation about your prostate to put down your cell phone and acknowledge my presence and order your drink?

I am here to serve you. But serving in and of itself is a very give-and-take kind of deal. I need you to give me your order, so I can take you your food. You need me to give my best before I take your equally hard-earned money into my own pocket. I depend on you.

I am the future. Please don't jade me any more than it's possible for an emo-haired, (sometimes) melodramatic, eager-to-please girl.

(What I really mean, of course, is tip 20 percent. It's not that hard.)

Leyla Shokoohe of Norwood is a server and a student.