In Praise of Waitresses : In Diners and Restaurants Across the Land, They Serve Their Country Well

I have often championed that underappreciated worker bee of American civilization, the waitress.

I love them, whether they are old or young, beautiful or plain, sweet or sour.

Beginning with the Harvey Girls, who brought good grooming, cheer and wives to the Santa Fe Trail, they helped to civilize the West that the cowboy, the prospector and the railroad hand had opened up.

They are the cement of society. They bind us together. In diners as bleak and lonely as an Edward Hopper painting, they feed the hungry, cheer the weary, solace the defeated and rally the disunited.

I am especially soft on those gritty old dears who work in delis, wobbling up and down the aisles on bent legs and slapping down their orders of beer and pastrami on rye with indestructible good humor. They always call you dearie or honey and urge you to eat, eat.

I feel equally affectionate toward those young cheerleader types in coffee shops who tell you, “Hi, I’m Debbie; I’ll be your waitress,” only to be replaced before your meal is finished by “Kathy,” who informs you that Debbie is on her break.

Now, Noel Young, up at Capra Press, in Santa Barbara, has published a long-overdue tribute: “Waitress: America’s Unsung Heroine,” by Leon Elder and Lin Rolens.

It is a collection of quotations, in the Studs Terkel manner, from waitresses around the country-- young and old, weary and tireless, proud and disenchanted--on the perils, anxieties, hardships and rewards of their calling.

It isn’t in any sense a scientific survey, but I gather from this casual report that most waitresses were forced into the job by harsh circumstances--a husband left them with two children to support, or their Ph.D. turned out to be unsalable, or they just hadn’t developed any other skills or talents.

Many tell of that first terrifying day on the job, which they had got by lying about their experience, a day that all too often ended with orders mixed up, hot soup spilled in a customer’s lap, harsh words from the kitchen and, finally, tears.

Many of the waitresses quoted are the Debbie type--girls right out of high school who have no call for a career and consider waiting on tables a way to pay their keep and meet some people.

It is curious how much affection most seem to have for their customers, though many have to deal with loudmouths who complain about their orders, make lewd pitches and don’t leave tips.

“I learned about human behavior and how to handle difficult situations,” says Midge Poynter, who works in a restaurant described as unpretentious. “The world doesn’t stop spinning just because I spill a root-beer float on a little boy or dump a plate of chili beans in a man’s lap. It didn’t even stop when I felt my half-slip slither down my legs as I was carrying three hot-fudge sundaes.”

Midge believes that many people enter a restaurant in a bad mood, but that their humor improves as they begin eating and their blood sugar rises. “Others, however, seem to have been born angry. They like to show their ‘superiority’ by making the waitresses’ life as miserable as possible--and they leave the smallest tips.”

In general, the consensus seems to be, women are more difficult than men and less generous.

“Women have a hundred reasons for not tipping well,” Eddi Fredrick says. “Either you are too pretty or threatening, or they do this at home for free, or they are saving their money to buy something after finishing lunch with their friends.”

Every waitress, Patricia Mammano says, has nightmares in which everything goes wrong. “I have found myself working against every imaginable obstacle. . . . I am often ill-prepared, late, undressed, paralyzed, intoxicated or unable to speak.”

But like many others, Eddi Fredrick feels pride and satisfaction: “I mostly feel elegant about what I am doing . . . . It is not something to be scoffed at. Some people I know act as though I should be just a little embarrassed by doing this, and it makes me angry. I’m learning a great deal about people and giving.”

If you read this book, you’ll never bark at another waitress, or fail to leave a tip.