I ran across a couple of statistics recently that made me remember my short-lived career as a waitress during college.

Nearly half of all adults have worked in the restaurant industry at least once during their life and more than 25 percent worked their first job in a restaurant.

Waitressing was my second bona fide job, since I had spent the summer after high-school graduation working as a cub reporter at my hometown weekly newspaper.

Money’s tight for most college kids, and I was no exception.

In desperate need of cash, I took a job working the graveyard shift at the Highway Host in Moorhead, Minn., my sophomore year at Moorhead State. It wasn’t a well-thought-out plan, since I had to work until 6 a.m. and my first class of the day was at 9 a.m. The stamina of youth was on my side, at least temporarily.

Working the 10 p.m. to 6 p.m. shift meant that in addition to waiting on all kinds of odd night owls and drunk college kids, I had the drudgery of mopping floors, filling ketchup bottles and stocking up for the next day.

I lasted three months at that job until sleep deprivation got the best of me. About a year later, once again sorely in need of money, I hired on at the Country Kitchen across the Red River in Fargo, N.D. And once again I was stuck with the graveyard shift.

Since I didn’t have a car, my only transportation was by bicycle. Looking back, I can’t believe I biked across the sister cities in the dead of night. I never felt at risk, though one wouldn’t want to take that same route these days given the upswing in the area’s crime rate.

I recall it was a table full of especially drunk, obnoxious college students that sent me over the edge at the Country Kitchen. Once the bars closed they’d head to the all-night eatery in droves. After being groped or slapped on the rear one too many times, I quietly vowed I’d never work again as a waitress and quit.

It wasn’t the last time I would be employed as a server, though. While working at a small, family-run hotel in Salzburg, Austria, I had to serve banquet-style meals to groups of tourists. That wasn’t bad, although I can say with certainty that the Americans were the rowdiest and most demanding of the tour groups. Sadly, they  also were the messiest.

I’m not sure I learned any lessons during my short time as a waitress, other than I knew I didn’t want to do it for the rest of my life.

To this day I am appreciative of those waiters and waitresses who serve me with a pleasant demeanor. There’s always that fine line between not giving enough attention to diners and smothering them with too many “How’s everything?” comments, even before you’ve taken a bite.

Though restaurant wait staffs are a driving force in the economy, those still are not high-paying jobs and largely are dependent on the tips their customers leave behind. Even so, I believe leaving an ample tip shouldn’t be an obligation if the service has been dismal.

I don’t usually dine late at night, but if I did I’d probably leave those late-shift workers a little extra, just for old times’ sake. I’ve walked a mile or two in their shoes.

Features editor Lynnette Hintze may be reached at 758-4421 or by email at [email protected].