2 days working in a restaurant (EN-ES)

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I was eighteen years old, the right age to dream big about being whatever you want, but that period is very problematic when it comes to making good decisions for the future.

In my case, after graduating from school, I thought it was the most ideal time because: I needed money and work experience that I could write on my resume.

So... Guided by economic anguish and a strong youthful impulse, the courage that only little knowledge of life can provide, I decided to become start working in a restaurant as a waiter.

I still remember the day I walked into that restaurant for the first time. It wasn't 5 star, but it looked refined inside and out, and the food was Italian, which I loved, but I couldn't eat it, which was torture.

“This will be easy” I thought many times, secretly convincing myself that my natural charisma would lead me to be the best employee in the room. However, I didn't know that serving customers required much more than knowing how to write down an order in a notebook, I was the clumsy explorer in that labyrinth. I learned everything I know now from that kind of experience.

The first day was a mixture of excitement and terror. I was the only waiter in the place, and I started my probationary period without proper training.

The orders came non-stop, a constant back and forth of pizzas, salads and main courses like spaghetti. I would instantly forget what I was writing in my notebook. I tried to listen carefully, but my mind collapsed under the pressure of keeping everything in order.

I had to keep a smile on my face, it felt like a mask, as the customers' faces blurred, I paid attention to the slow passing of time.

My boss looked at me out of the corner of her eye with a mixture of compassion and impatience. I went to her whenever I had a question, which was every five minutes.

Her cutting voice was like a constant reminder that this work world had no room for absent-mindedness.

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“Every customer is important,” she would tell me all the time.
"Remember their tastes. You can't fail."

I don't know why I thought for sure that working as a waiter was something easy, maybe it was TV influence, I really didn't know the pressure of having five tables waiting at once, watching me as if my every move defined me as a person.

It was on the second day of the day that the accident for which I was fired occurred: a small mistake, an almost imperceptible, but catastrophic slip. I misunderstood an order. And when I realized what I had done, I froze, I saw the world around me vanish.

My boss caught me, the words of apology left my lips, and I could feel the disappointment run down my spine. At times like that, the mind becomes an echo of reproach, and I was nothing more than a teenager caught in a sea of confusion.

When my boss asked me to meet with her privately, I could see the future. Her gaze was that of one who has seen a desperate mistake too many times. Her phrase, spoken with aplomb, resonated, “This job is not for everyone.”

And so, after only two days, my career as a waiter came to an end. I left the restaurant with slumped shoulders and a shattered heart. It was a hard blow, yes, but it was also a very important lesson, a valuable experience because it was necessary.

I understood not to underestimate a job no matter what, although at first I thought it might be simple, that world required skills I had not yet mastered; the ability to connect, to anticipate, and to memorize.

Years later, from time to time I would pass by that restaurant, it ran its course without me, they hired someone more capable, believe it or not, I was happy for that place. I reflected on the importance of finding my way. Being a waiter was not for me, perhaps it was not my true destiny, but it was an experience that taught me about expectations, pressure and the importance of not giving up in the search for what I truly want to do.

In the end, I was a waiter's attempt at my first job. However, that brief encounter with reality pushed me towards new adventures, where my skills developed into something more to my liking. And so, with a new purpose, I walked towards the horizon, ready to continue exploring the world that opened up before me with endless possibilities.

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Original version in Spanish


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Tenía dieciocho años, la edad adecuada para soñar en grande con ser lo que uno quiera, pero ese periodo es muy problemático cuando se trata de tomar buenas decisiones para el futuro.

En mi caso, después de graduarme de la escuela, pensé que era el momento más idóneo porque: necesitaba dinero y experiencia laboral que pudiera escribir en mi currículum.

Así que... Guiado por la angustia económica y un fuerte impulso juvenil, la valentía que solo el poco conocimiento de la vida puede proporcionar, decidí convertirme empezar a trabajar en un restaurante como un mesero.

Aun recuerdo el día en que entré a ese restaurante por primera vez. No era de 5 estrellas, pero se veía refinado por dentro y por fuera, y la comida era italiana, lo cual me encantaba, pero no podía comerlo, lo cual era una tortura.

“Esto será fácil” pensé muchas veces, secretamente me convencí a mi mismo de que mi carisma natural me llevaría a ser el mejor empleado en la sala. Sin embargo, no sabía que atender a los clientes requería mucho más que saber anotar un pedido en una libreta, yo fui el torpe explorador en ese laberinto. Aprendí todo lo que se ahora por esa clase de vivencias.

El primer día fue una mezcla de emoción y terror. Era el único mesero del local, y empece mi periodo de prueba sin recibir una adecuada capacitación.

Las órdenes llegaban sin parar, un constante vaivén de pizzas, ensaladas y platos principales como espaguetis. Olvidaba al instante lo que anotaba en mi libreta. Intentaba escuchar con atención, pero mi mente colapsaba bajo la presión de mantener todo en orden.

Tenia que mantener una sonrisa en mi cara, se sentía como una máscara, mientras los rostros de los clientes se desdibujaban, yo prestaba atención al lento pasar del tiempo.

Mi jefa me miraba de reojo con una mezcla de compasión e impaciencia. Acudía a ella cada vez que tenia un duda, lo cual era cada 5 minutos.

Su voz cortante era como un recordatorio constante de que ese mundo laboral no tenía lugar para los despistes.

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“Cada cliente es importante” me decía todo el tiempo.
“Recuerda sus sus gustos. No puedes fallar”

No sé porque pensé con seguridad que trabajar como mesero era algo fácil, tal vez fue influencia de la televisión, realmente no conocía la presión de tener a cinco mesas esperando a la vez, observándome como si cada movimiento mío me definiera como persona.

Fue en el segundo día de la jornada que ocurrió el accidente por el cual me despidieron: un pequeño error, un desliz casi imperceptible, pero catastrófico. Confundí una orden. Y cuando me di cuenta de lo que había hecho, me quede helado, vi cómo el mundo a mi alrededor se desvanecía.

Mi jefa me descubrió, las palabras de disculpa salieron de mis labios, y pude sentir la decepción recorrer mi espina. En momentos como esos, la mente se vuelve un eco de reproches, y yo no era más que un adolescente atrapado en un mar de confusión.

Cuando mi jefa me pidió reunirme con ella en privado, pude ver el futuro. Su mirada era la de quien ha visto un error desesperado demasiadas veces. Su frase, dicha con aplomo, resonó: “Este trabajo no es para todos”

Y así, tras solo dos días, mi carrera como mesero llegó a su fin. Salí del restaurante con los hombros caídos y el corazón hecho trizas. Era un golpe duro, sí, pero también fue una lección muy importante, una experiencia valiosa por ser necesaria.

Comprendí que no hay que subestimar un trabajo sin importar qué, aunque al principio pensé que podría ser sencillo, aquel mundo requería habilidades que aún no había dominado; la capacidad de conectar, de anticipar, y de memorizar.

Años después, de vez en cuando me paso por aquel restaurante, siguió su curso sin mi, contrataron a alguien más capacitado, aunque no lo crean, me alegro por ese local. Reflexione sobre la importancia de encontrar mi camino. Ser mesero no era para mi, quizás, no era mi verdadero destino, pero fue una experiencia que me enseñó sobre las expectativas, la presión y la importancia de no rendirse en la búsqueda de lo que verdaderamente quiero hacer.

Al final, fui un intento de mesero en mi primer trabajo. Sin embargo, aquel breve encuentro con la realidad me empujó hacia nuevas aventuras, donde mis habilidades se desarrollaron en algo más de mi gusto. Y así, con un nuevo propósito, camine hacia el horizonte, listo para seguir explorando el mundo que se abría ante mí con posibilidades infinitas.

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Translation by deepl.com

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I could feel your nervousness as you rushed through pizzas, spaghetti, and salads without proper training. The way you froze after the mistake on the second day showed how tough the experience was, but also how valuable the lesson became.

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You do a really nice job of describing this early 'failure', which actually was a learning experience for you. The piece could have been richer if you had described one of you disastrous incidents in detail. For example, in this paragraph:

It was on the second day of the day that the accident for which I was fired occurred: a small mistake, an almost imperceptible, but catastrophic slip. I misunderstood an order. And when I realized what I had done, I froze, I saw the world around me vanish.

You could have told us exactly what that catastrophic slip was. This would have really enlivened the narrative.

Sometimes, when I'm writing a story, I look it over and try to find opportunities like this. I go back and think about the details, about exactly what happened. What did the people say? How did they look? Was there a mess on the floor? Did the customer yell?

Do you see how rounding out this incident would have drawn us into your experience and would have made your piece more memorable?

You have a effective writing style. I look forward to reading more of your stories, whether fiction or creative nonfiction.

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