Lucid Thoughts

February 22, 2026

Since college graduation, I’m haunted by one burning question – the hot topic for awkward silence: 

“What do you do for work?” 

I choke on my words with each answer, carrying too much shame in declaring my profession.

“I’m just a waitress.”

The usual return response provides encouragement along the lines of but that’s not just what you are! Yet, it feels like that’s all I’ve ever been, or at least all I’m perceived to be, especially since obtaining my degree. 

While serving, overly curious guests say, “you went to Penn State, what are you doing here?”, or, “so you’re letting your degree go to waste?”. I received such cruel judgement from a guest once, one of their many statements burned a hole in my confidence: “I’m sure your parents are happy they spent all that money on your education for you to just work in a restaurant!” – as if it’s safe to assume I was blessed with such a luxury. I try to take these judgments from strangers with a grain of salt.

There are also family members who voice their lack of understanding about why I don’t have a “job”, some declare it’s easy to walk into any corporate establishment with a resume and ask for a job. I’m lazy for not finding a “real” job. Some won’t say anything explicitly, they’ll make passing comments at Thanksgiving dinner and embellish the successes of my surrounding aged cousins. 

The shame I feel stems from the stigma around service industry workers, a stigma people are not afraid to openly comment on. The reality is I have learned more crucial life skills serving breakfast than I ever will succumbing to corporate American expectations. I’ve learned people-skills: patience, understanding, empathy, grace. 

As just a waitress, I experience authentic interactions.

I once served a family who hadn’t been out to eat in 10 years to afford the father’s chemo treatments. They were out for the daughter’s 21st birthday and she and her brother shared a $4 drink. Once I served a couple whose young son suddenly passed that morning and they needed to process their shock in a comfortable setting. A fire alarm went off once and the little girl at my table asked to hold my hand outside because she was uncomfortable with loud sounds. One time I told a couple of ladies I kill every plant I try to care for and they returned hours later with an “unkillable” plant for me. I walked in on a man naked in the bathroom once. I’ve seen people filing for divorce. I’ve seen pregnancy announcements, proposals, surprise parties, and once I waited on Jodie Sweeten. 

These interactions, random people’s movements through life deeply impact mine. They’re out to eat for a moment in their lives, but this job and this place I work in is my life and how incredible that I witness all of these stories. 

“Just a waitress.”

I care deeply about being a waitress. The actual job itself is mundane, deliver some food and call it a day. Yet, I hold the power to guide these moments for people. The art of harvesting an impactful environment is the part where I become more than just that waitress. 

I become the best version of myself because of this profession. It’s incredibly demanding and chaotic and sometimes I want to dump water on somebody’s head, but every moment is crucial. For every moment is another experience to take and learn something from.

I’ve interviewed for a lot of jobs over the past two years and I often struggle to feel attachment to any position because of the lack of humanity behind them. People feel robotic and inauthentic. 

I start a new job on Monday. 9-5. Cubical. 

I’m terrified. It’s incredibly exciting and I’ve been working hard toward it, but I’m struggling to picture what my future looks like. I’ve been just a waitress for so long that I can’t picture my life without these small moments. 

Bystanders will enjoy that I can provide a concrete explanation to that burning question moving forward, but I encourage those with judgement to open their hearts to the fact each person’s story is different.