Waitress Anxiety

This evening, commencing at approximately 5:30 pm, I will start my job as a waitress at a California/Baja Mexican restaurant. Since "interviewing" for the job (note: "interviewing" consisted of Rob, the owner, asking me if I'd waitressed before--to which I responded, "Yes, Rob, I have"--to which he replied "see you on Sunday"), memories of my experience as a waitress at Armand's Pizzeria back home in D.C. have flooded back to me: My feet hurt; customers were often rude; my ego was severely bruised by more than a few tray-spilling debacles; and by the time I left, I loathed pizza with a very zealous passion.

Blargh.

I have, however, convinced myself that "Carlyn Does Waitressing, Take 2" will be quite different. The reasons are sixfold:

1. I've been walking a lot. My feet have grown accustomed to a monotonous tread.
   
2. After teaching a cappella to elderly divas this summer, I know not only how to embrace the rudeness, but how to be slightly amused by it too.
   
3. I no longer have the gait of an awkward senior in high school...Hence, my balance is a bit better. No more tray spills.
4. Australians may not tip, but they do have a minimum wage of $13/hr.
5. My boss is an American from California. He automatically has to love me amidst all these accented Aussies (right?!).
   
6. I like Mexican food more than I like pizza. 

Wish me luck.