It's tough to add to what's already been said, but one odd habit that pops up now and again, even though it's been a long, long time since I worked as a hostess and a waitress, is looking up when someone comes in a door. It comes from those times when there were lulls between rushes, and no preparations left to do, when we'd gather and talk, usually behind a barrier of some kind. There would always be a straggler group to come in, that wasn't in on that mysterious universal clock everyone else was on (that had nothing to do with time) that created rushes of unknown origin.

The best memories and friends come from the restaurant I worked at the longest, while in college. It was the hot restaurant to go to, at the time. There was a weird kind of pride in that. It was hard to get a job there. Some of the most creative and smart people I had yet to meet, I met there. It was my first contact, right out of high school, with actual artists and writers, theater and film grad students.

Being taken in as one of their own gave me confidence to go from undeclared academic drifter and go all in on art.

My proudest moment was learning to balance the giant trays, and be able to move quickly and seamlessly around the chaos with them fully loaded.

I also took a lot of dance classes back then, so busy Friday and Saturday nights felt like a kind of ballet. But a common work dream was not of dance but war. Our restaurant combined into an old WWII movie, and between bombings and bullets we kept our stations running.

And nothing beat the beer afterwards, or the banter in between.