THAT'S NOT MY TABLE

My very first waitress experience was when I was 13 year's old. My best friend's mother was a waitress at a small tavern/resturant on the northwest side of Chicago. It was called Glo's Place and it served what would be considered now "bar food". Except with a Midwestern flair of white rolls and meats served with gravy and mashed potatoes. Chicken wings and potato skins had not yet been invented. My friend's mother, Trudy, wore a black nylon uniform with a white apron and white shoes. Waitresses in little plaid skirts or tight orange shorts did not exsist back then. Waitresses looked more like nurses. A Glo's Place I discovered the truth of the resturant, the kitchen and service area, the back of the house. I cut lemons, put little pats of butter into small dishes, poured ice tea. The back of a resturant is like a theater before a performance. The first time I had to serve a table I was as nervous as if I was performing a Shakespeare play.