Love letter to my local Chinese restaurant

Going into my senior year of high school, I needed a job. My best friend was a hostess at the new Chinese restaurant that opened, and I thought, “how fun would that be to work together.” The language barrier was real and apparent from the moment I spoke to the manager, but I was hired and every weekend we spent time behind the front desk taking orders, packing sushi and stealing Andes mints from the wait station.

It wasn’t a hard job at all, and I caught onto the computer system really quickly. It was fun to play around and make up orders for people when it was slow. Eventually I started to loathe giving up my evenings after hours of dance rehearsals and was having serious FOMO about my senior year. When my last day came, I peaced out with my head held high, thinking I was above that place and thank God I was moving 750 miles away and would never stand behind that desk again.

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