Waitressing was not for me.
A job trial, nice cup of tea?
No, try a high street Italian restaurant.
Where my one great pull was
boss wanted me to tutor his child.
Saw I had an MA in Creative Writing.
They all seemed really a pleasant bunch.
I washed up, served, stacked cups.
But while working alongside the incredibly polished waiter
I suffered the heebie jeebies.
I mean it’s not like unfolding and refolding a table-cloth was really that difficult.
But remember I am saying why waitressing was not for me.
Try serving people at a frantic pace,
in a way yes, I had a charm and flair,
but folding table-cloths in front of Mr Debonair?
I guess they put up with me yet were polite.
I did my best and at least I did not drop plates but,
when they paid me for my one day trial,
I knew it was my first and last.
Bless them, they made me pasta
Now I know why waitressing was not for me.
Serving drinks with bon ami.
Paying lip service, not a chance.
Highly expectant customers, fair enough.
This might not have been Fawlty Towers but neither was it The Savoy.
I will stick to writing books. Why?
Because waitressing was not for me.