my college writing class
My life transition
It was a crisp October autumn day two years ago, and my family and I were waiting patiently for our flight to be announced. Once we boarded the plane and found our seats, I turned around one last time and waved back at was now my past, uncertain about what was in store for us in America.
I had been in the United States for only two weeks when, with the help of my uncle, I found my first part-time job as a waitress. Excited and confident, I reported to the restaurant for my first day of work, but things didn’t go as smoothly as I had imagined.
”I’m not going to be responsible for the mistakes you make,” the manager said. “Go and apologize to the customer immediately for what you have done.”
I was standing in front of a table with broken pieces of glass on the floor, and two angry customers were waiting for me to clean everything up. At that moment, I felt terribly useless, knowing that I had messed everything up.
One of the costumers kept banging his finger on the table, while the other, clearly upset, yelled words I didn’t understand. At that moment, I began to think of China.
The advantage of being the only girl in my family was that I was treated like a princess, without a care in the world. My mom used to sit on the sofa, waiting for me every Friday to come home from school. I loved hearing her say, ”The food is ready.” One time, I argued with my father because he didn’t buy me a computer. Not long after, one appeared on my desk. Then there were the fancy dresses my mom bought me, filling up my two closets, and my father’s promise to send me to one of the best schools in the community, despite the high tuition.
”What are you doing?” The manager was still screaming at me, as I wandered back to reality. “Is this so tough that you have to spend the whole day cleaning it up?”
”Could you please not make me yell at you? I’m sick of that.” She raised her voice this time, and became furious．
I was scared by her angry countenance, and even hurried to clean up the mess. When I passed by the kitchen, I heard the whispers of other waitress who had worked there so long, long enough to tease a new comer like me.
”You heard how her uncle boasted about her intelligence?” one of them said. Now, look at her, she even doesn’t know how to clean up something. If that is intelligence, I must be a genius!”
The laugher and their words pieced my ears, but instead of responding or crying, I tried to smile normally, pretended nothing had ever happened. However, I found my efforts totally useless when I was asked to meet my boss at day’s end. With no doubt, I felt something depressing might soon happen.
It was the first and also the last time I ever saw my boss. Our meeting ended with ”You are done.” I felt ashamed of my past naïve imaginations about life.
A month after I was fired, I found a job in a new restaurant. But this time, wouldn’t be the same.
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