You Deserve More

Welcome back to The Deserved Co. Blog. It's been a little while since I started this, blogging is still very new to me. But I'm happy to be back and will giving it my best shot.

The last two years have been some of the toughest years of my life. I had just completed my third year of college when my big sister’s cancer started to get out of control. She was living back home in Denver, Colorado and we decided it would be best to get her down to Houston, where I was living, to get her into MD Anderson. Since it was just her and I in Texas, I became her caregiver through all of it. When she lost her hair, I shaved my head to show her I was all in. Through the beautiful and ugly, good and bad. She ended up doing a full Stem Cell transplant and it meant we spent nearly every single day driving back and forth from the Clear Lake area, downtown to MD Anderson, which in traffic would be upwards of 45 minutes to an hour each way depending on the time. Dealing with hours on end of doctors’ appointments, tests, chemo, radiation, and all the follow up and check ins. Some days were 8-hour days. During all of this, I was waiting tables still at The Cheesecake Factory.

                  When servers talk about the mask you have to put on to deal with people while waiting tables, I now know the depth of what we truly mean. It’s one thing to just not be in the mood to deal with guests but have to fake it to be able to make your money. It’s another thing when you literally feel like your entire life is a pressure cooker in your chest, “leaving your personal life at the door” is easier said than done.  Smiling and laughing at the “a million dollars” response every dad cracks when you ask if there’s anything you can get your table. No one teaches you or prepares you how to mentally cope with the incredibly intense pressure that cash-based income positions become when personal life happens (which will happen because… servers are PEOPLE). When you want to crash out daily, but you need every dollar you can make to be able to pay the bills that take care of your life outside of work. And to the “if you don’t like it get a different job” commentators, sometimes it’s not that easy. Hardly any other jobs provide daily access to cash, flexible scheduling that allows people to drop or pick up shifts when they have things come up, and the ability to move things around quickly. Serving has been a life saver the entire time I was going to school and even more so in this journey with my sister’s cancer battle. I am SO grateful for everything the industry provided me all these years. My management team showed me a lot of grace during everything, and I will always be thankful of that. That doesn’t negate the fact that it is very hard. It’s hard on your mind, it’s hard on your body, it’s hard on your sleeping schedule, it’s hard on your eating habits, the list goes on (If you’ve ever cried in a walk-in, raise your hand).         

                  When it all really broke for me though was in January 2024. We were working through my sister’s treatments, preparing for her Stem Cell transplant, when we found out that my mom had also been diagnosed with cancer. She was living in Colorado and had sent a family friend to come visit us and to be there when she broke the news that she had been diagnosed…I had to work that night. I needed the money because it was only a couple days left until rent was due. I couldn’t even give myself time or space to grieve or process the news before I had to get dressed, do my makeup (praying I didn’t cry it off) and put that mask back on. The entire night I was at work I just felt out of my body, kind of like I was floating. I don’t really even remember it; I just had this overwhelming understanding of the heaviness of it all. The heaviness of being a server, of being dependent on your positive attitude and smile to make ends meet, of being the mediator between the kitchen and the guest. Constantly bullshitting and doing everything you can to keep your guests happy, in the hopes that they determine your worthiness, deserving of gratuity.

Side note: Listen, if you are one of the millions of people that go out to eat, even infrequently. Please, for the love of God, take a second to consider the person waiting on you. Maybe they aren’t as bubbly as you’d like them to be, maybe they missed a refill, maybe they FORGOT THE RANCH. Before you decide to take that soap box to tell them all about how they’re incompetent or berate them about food (THAT THEY DIDN’T COOK!!!) and stiff them. I say this not to dismiss truly bad service but have just a little bit of compassion. Give a little greater leeway. Please, take a second to consider what they may have going on. Consider the endless amount of pressure they are under. Consider the fact that they are humans, who CHOSE a profession that is solely dedicated to ensuring your happiness, providing you with a good time, and good food, so long as you are in their seats. Give a little grace. Have a little empathy. You NEVER know what people are going through. To those guests that do, that leave a couple extra dollars when you can tell they’re struggling, that pay for strangers’ tabs, that say kind words and provide warm smiles; we see you and are more grateful for you than you know. There is no better feeling than having a good table in the middle of a shit show. A little compassion goes a looooong ways and can often turn the tide for the rest of the shift. From all of us servers and bartenders to you, Thank you!

That day though, during this shift at work, in this haze that I looked down at my arm and had this huge Ah Ha! moment. I had gotten the serenity prayer tattooed on my forearm years earlier because I thought it was pretty and it stood out to me. I didn’t understand up until this very moment though that what I was going through now, years later, would be the reasoning for that message. “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things that I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.” I realized I can’t control any of it! I couldn’t control grumpy people, I couldn’t control my coworkers, I couldn’t control how the food came out of the kitchen, I couldn’t control my mom’s health, or my sister’s. The only thing I could control was me. My reactions, my energy, my emotions. How much love I put out. Servers are the world’s best actors. They bury EVERYTHING they have going on, admittedly not ALWAYS being able to fully contain attitude, and put on their game face to take care of hungry people all day long. It's what I’ve done my entire life, which is probably a good reason why I’m a great server. What I realized is that when that level of control gets put into the right things, that’s what’s the difference between succeeding and failing. The difference between being strong and breaking. That’s the difference between creating the life you dream of, using the industry and your experience as a tool to master whatever you want, vs. falling to addiction, depression, identity disorders, and burnout.

                  I decided the road of success. I decided that what I can control is what I put out and who I show up as in the world. It’s what drove me to begin this brand and community. I decided to show up as a light in this world, take the mask off, and address all the mess underneath it all. I deserve to. You deserve to. I spent too much time in the industry, seeing so many lost and hurt people, drama, pain, struggles, to not use that as fuel to do something about it. Figure out what is in my control and the courage to stand up and act on it. I have witnessed many beautiful moments as well and have made so many beautiful friends. I’ve learned how to be a stronger leader, more empathic for what people are going through on both sides of the table and have found a purpose for my pain. I have decided to be vulnerable and take you all on this journey with me. I am so incredibly grateful you’re here.

Welcome to the community and support you deserve.

Please feel free to like, comment, or share this blog with someone you think would relate. See you next week.