| On Hospitality and Debt Collection
It's really funny; neither of the two words above really go together all that well. When you think of hospitality, you usually get a vague image of waitressing; serving others be it in a bustling bistro or a small coffee shop. On the opposing side you usually think of debts; the sheriff knocking on your door. Bad credit ratings and (surprisingly I've heard this one a few times) being sent to jail.
I've worked in both industries; debt collection for two years, and hospitality in the last three months. And it's left an impression on how I view people that's really hard to digest. Admittedly I'm still fairly young and grimly trying to hang onto a naive outlook on how everyone deserves a little faith and a non-biased attitude, but...
I really am finding it hard to come to terms with something I've faced, these past few months. Perhaps, if you're reading this, you will too.
Working within debt collection is a fairly cushy job, I won't even lie. You're trained from the moment you walk through the door on how to handle anything; from the screaming callers to the suicidal. From the highly emotional, to the confused. Debt collection was to me, a call center, in which I handled the arrangement of payment plans, customer complaints, and helped people through issues such as their banks being garnished or their license suspended.
We were always trained for the explicit reasoning that a debt collection agency, be it for the government, or a bank, or any private investor, is not about to be a client's best friend. There's certainly no good reason for anyone to look at debt collectors affectionately, and I highly doubt anyone ever does. In my time with this agency, I dealt with significant issues; people owing thousands upon thousands, people with terminal or mental illnesses, people on life support, people who had only recently been released from rehab or jail- even people who were still there.
I have a million fond memories of these people. An affection for their patience, for their understanding. The way they listened, were appreciative for what I could do, even when at times, it frustrated me as well at how little could really be done. I have never worked in a better place-- and it wasn't the place itself. It was each and every beautiful person that I spoke to, from thousands of different walks of life, who would listen, would react. Everyday, I left work feeling that I had done something worthwhile. Everyday, those beautiful people made me feel like I had done a good job, had helped them when they needed it.
So the hospitality industry has come as a shock.
Currently, I'm working with a restaurant as a full-time manager whilst on a trainee-ship, so six days out of seven, I'm there. Debt collection has left some very significant memories in my mind; particularly when dealing with people who have recently lost family, who are dealing with homelessness, or bankruptcy...
This evening, I was called a cunt, due to a piece of fish not being warm enough to the client's taste.
What really gets to me here is that this has happened more than a few times, that people have treated me like I'm invisible, like I'm worthless, like I'm to be looked down upon, for doing my job and serving them. In fact, it's practically a nightly occasion, if not more than that. Each and everyday I wake up, knowing that someone throughout my shift will treat me like trash-- for being a waitress.
There are some really nice people out there. Exceptionally polite, readily conversational. They'll put you at ease and make you laugh, and allow you to do the same. They give you the chance to smile genuinely and receive the same treatment back that you serve to them. Equality. The harsh reality I've been struggling with is how few and far between they are.
And so I'm sitting here at a quarter to midnight, home from my shift, writing this. After an exceptionally bad day, I finally figured out the part that really disturbs me about this, that really gets to me in this shift and change. The fact of the matter is that, to be quite honest, I don't give a damn if your fish is lukewarm because you sat there talking for ten minutes before taking a bite. I really don't. I care less when you swear, when you belittle me or other staff. To you, to anyone who treats their waiter or waitress badly, who swears, complains, tries to haggle with their bill.
Thank you, for making me feel worthless. Thank you, for making my nights worse, for all the times you've ruined a good moment. Thank you for treating me like a snail that crawled across your shoe, thank you for deciding that I'm not human, or stupid, or just not listening.
Thank you. For giving me a bigger appreciation for all those people in hard times, who are homeless, or dying. Who have lost a loved one, or their livelihood. Who struggle with drug problems, mental illnesses, or criminal records. Thank you for providing me with clear insight into how much more meaningful and beautiful these people are, people who, without even having to look at me, gave me the time and respect I needed to help them out.
Enjoy your fish. |
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