Kisha Street Professor Ingram English 1101 9 July 2013 Culture Shock

Street, 1

Get a job, Tee! Stop sitting on your lazy ass and go do something with yourself! This argument all started because I didn't do the dishes the night prior. I will never forget these words that were screamed at me by my mother on the night of my freshman orchestra concert. These words angered me deeply; what had I done to deserve such harsh words? I had recently gotten inducted into the Spanish Honor Society, I was top of my class with a 3.93 GPA, and I just got acknowledged for most dedicated at our orchestra concert; I continuously thought to myself, how could she really call me lazy? After days of being angry with her, I decided to stop harping over it and do something about it. I didn't want to continue to let it keep me down, and I looked at it as motivation. So in order to prove to her that I was not lazy, I asked my older sister, Shanell, to help me look for a job without mom knowing. Shanell told me that she had just gotten a new internship at the courthouse and she wouldnt be able to keep her old job at a local mom and pop diner, this was fantastic news for me because they would be looking for a new waitress soon. After this news was presented to me, I asked Shanell to call her manager and see if hed be willing to let me come train and possibly fill her position, so, she did. She made the call on Saturday night, Sunday morning I was training right alongside my big sister. This was the beginning of an unforgettable experience for me.

On Sunday morning while I was getting ready for training, my sister warned me that people were much friendlier than those back home in New York. She told me the way to deal with that was to just be cordial and try to continue any conversation started by a customer Street, 2 because that was how I would get paid. So i braced myself for an interesting day. Before I entered the diner, I looked through the window and noticed that all of the booths were completely tattered and the light fixtures were all mix-matched. The minute that I stepped into Pan Pan Diner, I was greeted by the foulest smell that I have ever encountered. The air reeked of vinegar and old carpet. My sister and I were opening the restaurant so the only people that were there were those that worked back of the house. Before I began training, my sister introduced me to all of the back staff. The staff consisted of the prep cooks, Hermilio and Nelo, the line server, Rosa, the dishwasher, Jose, and the main chef, Carlos. All of the staff spoke mediocre english so my sister introduced us all in spanish. They were all very pleasantly surprised to see that I spoke spanish very well after I asked them what kind of food they served in their native tongue. Carlos told me that he could show me better than he could tell me, so he brought me over to the buffet line and showed me the plethora of southern comfort foods they had to offer. The first thing that he uncovered resembled a rubber toy brain and smelled like pickled bacon. My initial reaction was to cover my nose and mouth and immediately ask What the hell is that? Carlos responded with pata de puerco; at this moment in time, Id wished that I knew less spanish. This fine delicacy that was presented to me was pig feet. I dry-heaved in disgust and everyone, including my sister, laughed at my reaction. Coming from a caribbean family from New York, I grew up eating many different island foods as well as spanish and jewish foods so this was my first real encounter with southern cuisine. The line consisted of

other things that were a bit more tolerable for my weak stomach such as baked virginia ham, collard greens and candied yams. Everything was either covered in some type of thick gravy or looked like it had already been chewed up and spit back onto the buffet line. This new cuisine was the native food of the people that I would soon be serving so I had to familiarize myself with Street, 3 it as soon as possible if i really wanted to keep my job. After I studied the menu for some time, it was time to shadow Shanell while she waited on her tables. Every table that we approached together would stop Shanell before she could even let them know our soup of the day to ask how old we were and if we were twins, mind you, we are seven years apart. This was my first exposure to southern hospitality in the restaurant business, or what my mom likes to call, country nosiness. As the day progressed, more and more people asked more questions about Shanell and Is personal life. People asked questions like Duke or Crolina? Do ya play any sports? Do you know jesus? All of these questions puzzled me. I never thought that so many people would actually be interested in getting to know me when all I was to them, was their waitress. This was for sure a culture shock to me because in New York, no one cares about your religious beliefs, no one wants to know what college sports team you pull for, you simply coexist in the same space with a variety of people and you only get to know them if they are going to play a semi-important role in your life, not if they are simply your waitress. At the end of Shanells shift, we sat down with the manager, he wished Shanell luck at her internship and told me the next day that I came in would be Wednesday and I would be working on my own. I thanked him for the opportunity and I walked away with my head held high and a smile on my face, eager to tell my mom that I had gone out and gotten a job. When I

shared the news, mom was ecstatic and very proud of me. The support that I now had from my mother was very encouraging and that energy generated excitement about working at my new job on Wednesday. When I went in on Wednesday, the sweet smell of syrup and cornbread enveloped my nose. I was welcomed by the back of the house and the manager gave me the largest belgian waffle I have ever consumed. In this moment, this job became a homey place to me, a place of comfort and because of Pan Pan, I was exposed to a completely new breed of people and I grew to love the southern culture.