Waiting: The True Confessions of a Waitress

Unlike some people in my family, when I buy books at a place that books are cheap, I am typically quite selective.  (Case in point: A couple of years ago at the library book sale, I picked out exactly one book, while some people brought home two grocery bags full.)  Perhaps this selectivity is actually a result of the excesses of some people, or perhaps it is because at this point in my life I only want to buy books that I think I will actually read (unlike some people).  Anyway, a year or two ago, I picked up Waiting: The True Confessions of a Waitress by Debra Ginsberg at a thrift store.  At the end of Spring Break,  I pulled it off the shelf.

The book is a memoir of a college-educated woman who has waited tables for twenty or so years.  She details her experiences at several different restaurants, introduces many of the characters and friends she worked with, waxes poetic about various elements of serving and being served, and weaves in her tale of single motherhood. 

I picked it up because he “behind-the-scenes” viewpoint sounded interesting.  Unfortunately, it wasn’t.  This book was all-around not very good.  I was not impressed with Ginsberg’s writing.  First of all, any “interesting” stories were hindered by Ginsberg’s attempts to add significance to every chapter.  I didn’t need to read maudlin reflections on every single thing.  It was even predictable: last page of the chapter=annoying reflection part.  She was taking herself way too seriously.

My other major grievance also had to do with the writing.  Ginsberg uses so many qualifiers and it makes her writing weak.  I’m always telling my students not to do what she does here.  “In my opinion…” ”perhaps…” “in my mind…”  Look, writer, I’m relying on you to be the expert.  Please don’t add shadows of doubt to everything you say.  Overall, Ginsberg’s writing is sloppy, loose, and random.  All this might be overlooked if I was learning anything of value.  But that wasn’t happening either.  I’m not even sure why I read this whole book, except that by the time I realized the book wasn’t getting better, I was halfway done and it wasn’t really much effort to finish. 

A bit of positivity–after reading the book’s 300 pages, I am more aware of a couple of things: servers’ utter reliance and focus on tips, and the stereotypes surrounding waitresses.  Slightly intriguing, but not worth a whole book.

I’ve decided the one draw of waiting tables is the amount of money it provides relative to the amount of time one has to work.  This was reinforced by the book and by the drunk guy talking to the cute girl on the Duke bus Wednesday night.  Ginsberg found herself drawn back to waiting repeatedly because it allowed her to make enough money to support herself and her son while still being able to spend quite a bit of time with him.  She even quit a much more prestigious editing job for this reason.  The drunk guy told the girl, a Duke student, that he doesn’t go to school–he waits tables at night and spends the days “painting and smoking weed.”  He professed it was a pretty good life.  After some days of teaching (just some!), I would agree.  Although I would replace “painting and smoking weed” with “reading and going to Scrap Exchange.” 

Anyway, back to the point.  This book will be back at the thrift store shortly, if anyone wants it.