Throughout these short and wholesome eighteen years of life, I’ve had several jobs. At one point, I was a lifeguard who, on occasion, jumped in a cold nine-foot pool to save a panicking child. For a short period after that, I was employed at a fast food chain but was later sent home for wearing the wrong shade of khaki. I’ve been a sales associate in retail, where I’ve exchanged polite small talk with even the rudest customers. Then I worked as a waitress in a barbeque restaurant where the ongoing rush made work exciting. Now, despite the lingering smell of barbeque in my hair and the permanent calluses on my fingers from gripping scalding plates of food, waitressing was the best job I’ve ever had. I liked the chaos of a busy restaurant, and I liked the blush in my cheeks from running around. I knew the menu like the back of my hand. I liked feeling like I knew exactly what to do, and I loved the looks on little kids’ faces when they’d watch in awe as I carried several trays of food and drinks at once. I laughed a lot, built some good friendships, broke a few plates, and made plenty of memories. Waitressing was never what I wanted as a career – it was no long-term arrangement – but it did teach me valuable aspects I never knew I needed in my future. It taught me how to listen, how to show concern for and share laughs with others. It taught me how to radiate warmth, and it gave me a sense of control. No matter what I end up doing in this now-adult life, I hope it’ll be just as lively as my days on the restaurant floor.