pt. 4: goodbye ruby tuesday
After working at HEB before my freshman year, I thought it time for high glamour in my next job. Some place I could wear lipstick. Swing my hips. That kind of thing. The world of waitressing and hostessing beckoned to me. This job arena is where I may hold the record for jobs kept for the shortest amount of time.
I started a job at the Oyster Kracker on Anderson Lane, as a cashier and table busser. I got to wear a blue polyester apron and jaunty royal blue cap, as this was someone's vision of what seafarers harvesting oysters would wear. I cleaned up many a cracker and oyster shell from red-checkered oilcloths. I soon tired of it, and in a month or so, I made a friend there who got me a job at Ruby Tuesdays. It was time to move on to the big leagues.
Ruby Tuesdays, being the swank mahogany wood and low-lit, brass-detailed restaurant it was, required the waitresses to wear vests with little scarves tied in a knot. The waiters got to wear ties. I showed up the first day wearing a tie and was told to not show up like that again. I had gone through a week of rigorous training, memorizing the menu, polishing the brass. But I also discovered the first day that people could not hear my low-talking above the din of the restaurant. I also discovered I hated waitressing and turned in my notice. My friend who got me the job was not pleased.
My good friend Janis had the idea I would like hostessing at a hotel restaurant. Her husband worked at the downtown Hyatt managing room service, so I had an in there. Not much to it, I thought, just smile and seat people. Swing my hips. Lipstick. I was a little nervous about the idea of interviewing for a job there, and Janis gave me some great tips for the interview: smile a lot, be peppy and keep up eye contact.
Here's where things got a bit ridiculous for me. In the interview I decided lots of eye contact meant to stare down my interviewer. I rarely blinked, while smiling hugely and speaking enthusiastically. I know I freaked her out. I know this because she had the look on your face you get when you find yourself alone in a room with a crazy person. You will be surprised to learn I didn't get the job.
However, the idea of working in a hotel still appealed to me, so I applied for a hostess job at the downtown Marriot. I think the Sheraton is now in it's place. It's a beautiful mauve building. I toned down my interview technique and got the job. I was thrilled. Then they gave me my uniform. I was sporting short blonde hair that I had shorn and highlighted myself. When I went home and put on that mauve hostess suit, I felt like Shirley Partridge. I couldn't shake the image from my head.
So, when it came time to go to work the first day, I walked in carrying the suit. "I'm sorry," I said. "I just can't wear this." I handed it to them and then I left.
I spent the rest of that summer tanning by my parent's pool. I didn't work again for the rest of my time in college. Steve and I got engaged at the end of my junior year, and planning the wedding took up a lot of my time. My senior year of college looked something like this:
9 am: Communications class at Concordia
11 am: Step aerobics at Body Business
12 pm: Same lunch every day of Red Baron single deep dish pizza. (Why?)
1 to 2 pm: Tanning by the pool, flipping at 1:30. Bridal magazines were my constant companion.
3 to 5 pm: Planning the wedding. I planned our entire wedding all by myself. My friend Janis was the matron of honor and gave great advice. My mother went along to various places to pay the bills. Wedding planner. Now here was a career I should have sought out.
6 pm: Dinner, followed by extensive letter writing to Steve and my friends. This was way before cell phones, email or social media. I had pale blue stationary with my name engraved on the top in navy blue. I had become Princess Diana in my mind.
I didn't work again until after I was married and we moved to Dallas. I worked at North Park Mall for Gap Kids and a petticoat lace store. (Well, what else were we to wear under our Laura Ashley dresses?) I finished up my degree and applied for graduate school.
Although I was not an academic, I did have a passion for writing and an attention span for the things I was passionate about. I applied for the RTF Screenwriting program at UT and got in, my GPA just high enough and my writing just good enough. I was 22, very green and somewhat sheltered. I got my booty handed to me on a plate.
But I was told I was one of their best writers, and to pursue screenwriting at the time meant a move to Los Angeles, as Austin was not the film center it has become. Steve had no plans of ever living anywhere but Texas. So I dropped out, not sure that I could do it in Austin.
Next up, what it looks like to work for the government in the middle of the night when you are not a law enforcement or an intelligence officer.
I started a job at the Oyster Kracker on Anderson Lane, as a cashier and table busser. I got to wear a blue polyester apron and jaunty royal blue cap, as this was someone's vision of what seafarers harvesting oysters would wear. I cleaned up many a cracker and oyster shell from red-checkered oilcloths. I soon tired of it, and in a month or so, I made a friend there who got me a job at Ruby Tuesdays. It was time to move on to the big leagues.
Ruby Tuesdays, being the swank mahogany wood and low-lit, brass-detailed restaurant it was, required the waitresses to wear vests with little scarves tied in a knot. The waiters got to wear ties. I showed up the first day wearing a tie and was told to not show up like that again. I had gone through a week of rigorous training, memorizing the menu, polishing the brass. But I also discovered the first day that people could not hear my low-talking above the din of the restaurant. I also discovered I hated waitressing and turned in my notice. My friend who got me the job was not pleased.
My good friend Janis had the idea I would like hostessing at a hotel restaurant. Her husband worked at the downtown Hyatt managing room service, so I had an in there. Not much to it, I thought, just smile and seat people. Swing my hips. Lipstick. I was a little nervous about the idea of interviewing for a job there, and Janis gave me some great tips for the interview: smile a lot, be peppy and keep up eye contact.
Here's where things got a bit ridiculous for me. In the interview I decided lots of eye contact meant to stare down my interviewer. I rarely blinked, while smiling hugely and speaking enthusiastically. I know I freaked her out. I know this because she had the look on your face you get when you find yourself alone in a room with a crazy person. You will be surprised to learn I didn't get the job.
However, the idea of working in a hotel still appealed to me, so I applied for a hostess job at the downtown Marriot. I think the Sheraton is now in it's place. It's a beautiful mauve building. I toned down my interview technique and got the job. I was thrilled. Then they gave me my uniform. I was sporting short blonde hair that I had shorn and highlighted myself. When I went home and put on that mauve hostess suit, I felt like Shirley Partridge. I couldn't shake the image from my head.
So, when it came time to go to work the first day, I walked in carrying the suit. "I'm sorry," I said. "I just can't wear this." I handed it to them and then I left.
I spent the rest of that summer tanning by my parent's pool. I didn't work again for the rest of my time in college. Steve and I got engaged at the end of my junior year, and planning the wedding took up a lot of my time. My senior year of college looked something like this:
9 am: Communications class at Concordia
11 am: Step aerobics at Body Business
12 pm: Same lunch every day of Red Baron single deep dish pizza. (Why?)
1 to 2 pm: Tanning by the pool, flipping at 1:30. Bridal magazines were my constant companion.
3 to 5 pm: Planning the wedding. I planned our entire wedding all by myself. My friend Janis was the matron of honor and gave great advice. My mother went along to various places to pay the bills. Wedding planner. Now here was a career I should have sought out.
6 pm: Dinner, followed by extensive letter writing to Steve and my friends. This was way before cell phones, email or social media. I had pale blue stationary with my name engraved on the top in navy blue. I had become Princess Diana in my mind.
I didn't work again until after I was married and we moved to Dallas. I worked at North Park Mall for Gap Kids and a petticoat lace store. (Well, what else were we to wear under our Laura Ashley dresses?) I finished up my degree and applied for graduate school.
Although I was not an academic, I did have a passion for writing and an attention span for the things I was passionate about. I applied for the RTF Screenwriting program at UT and got in, my GPA just high enough and my writing just good enough. I was 22, very green and somewhat sheltered. I got my booty handed to me on a plate.
But I was told I was one of their best writers, and to pursue screenwriting at the time meant a move to Los Angeles, as Austin was not the film center it has become. Steve had no plans of ever living anywhere but Texas. So I dropped out, not sure that I could do it in Austin.
Next up, what it looks like to work for the government in the middle of the night when you are not a law enforcement or an intelligence officer.