“And how would you like that prepared?” I ask with a gleaming smile. She pauses, shutters, and lets out an impatient yet staunch, “Cooked please.” I fight the urge to crumble as my stomach drops. I scribble down:
Seat #4 Pistachio Crusted Whitefish with Asparagus.
I rush through the rest of my newly adopted waitress routine and bolt for the server station. I contemplate ripping my shirt off. In a state of delusion, I begin to sense hives overtaking my entire epidermis. My shift lead helps me enter the orders into the POS system as I quiver with embarrassment. Sweat percolates throughout my newly acquired, embroidered uniform.
The kitchen prepares the two orders of pan-seared walleye with a side of potato pancake, brussel sprouts, three cheese mushroom campanelle pasta, and, finally, the pistachio-crusted whitefish. Still shaken up by my “follow-up question” memorization debacle, I ask an uninterested 40-something-year-old coworker to quiz me on all possible nuances of the menu. I beg her to drill me through difficult questions members throw at her, before eventually reentering the clubhouse dining room.
I leave my shift appalled by my inability to memorize answers to such a simple sequence of questions about soup du jour, salad additions, sandwich modifications, and entree flavor schemes.
Returning home that evening, I sat in disbelief at my kitchen counter, drowning my sorrows with a pairing of Cinnamon Toast Crunch and tears. I somehow managed to end up working as a professional waitress at a country club for my final free, fun, and flexible summer.
Halfway through my bowl, I continue to cringe, playing over each mistake from my shift: from clanking plates and clearing from the wrong side to asking what temperature the member would like their whitefish cooked. I can’t shake the embarrassment of the awkward encounters when all eyes seemed to dart toward my blushing cheeks.
The following morning, I donned a different uniform. I hid my existential dread for another new beginning with navy blue dress pants, a J. Crew floral top, and silver loafers. Friendly smiles welcomed me through the front door of the accounting firm where I would spend two days a week for the duration of the summer. Fresh air conditioning, modern amenities, and a bountiful pantry felt like a loving embrace after my torturous shift the night prior.
As the summer days passed, I learned to balance and conquer the double life of being a club waitress and accounting intern. Grasping financial modeling seemed to blur into a parallel with my ability to recount the nuances of a cocktail menu.
Toward the end of the summer, I asked my manager to spend some time workshopping my resume and preparing me for upcoming behavioral interviews. He began to run through a litany of prompts the “Big Four” accounting firms ask in almost all interviews:
- Tell me about a time when you worked with a group and someone wasn’t doing their fair share, and how you resolved the situation.
- Tell me about a time when you were forced to deal with two competing priorities.
- Tell me about a confrontational client situation and what you did to improve the situation.
I bounced ideas off my manager, finding ways to spin a variety of experiences I had in working environments—none of which ended up pertaining to my tranquil and nurturing experience as an accounting intern. Instead, I found myself drawing on the trying moments from my summer as a waitress. Balancing trash duties, angry customers, kitchen mishaps, and understaffed days seemed to leave my manager impressed with my well-rounded perspective on how to successfully operate a team.
Since the start of this school year, my inbox has been filled with reminders of firms recruiting on campus with clubs like Women In Business, BC Investment Banking Association, Accounting Academy, and the Consulting Association. In addition, my LinkedIn feed is filled with students boasting impressive summer internships.
After working a double life this summer, however, I understand the necessity of seeking conventional work experience as well as enriching opportunities to grow professionally. While these educational programs and internships give students a leg up in the job hunt, the perspective gained from working in hands-on, client-facing roles like those in the service industry teaches students how to grind it out to and reach a goal.
If you are entering the recruiting season nervous about forgetting EBITDA ratios or industry trends, maybe try focusing your efforts on articulating experiences through anecdotes outside of the classroom instead. The insights are worthwhile.
