Studying in the United States: The joys and sorrows of working in a Chinese restaurant

More than ten years ago, one afternoon before the start of school in the fall, my husband and I arrived in the United States after a long-distance flight from the east side of the earth where we had lived for more than 20 years. My husband holds a student visa, and I came with him to study with him, euphemistically calling him: the wife of an international student.

We brought with us more than 4,000 US dollars, about 30,000 yuan, which was a lot of money at that time. My husband is studying a popular business management course. Although the scholarship is reduced by half, he still has to pay more than 2,000 yuan in tuition. In addition to the unbudgeted student medical insurance, books, materials and miscellaneous expenses, the total cost is nearly 3,000 yuan. After one month's rent plus one month's deposit, and some daily necessities, at the end of the first week, I only had four or five hundred yuan left in my pocket.

I no longer care about looking at the blue sky, white clouds, green grass and red flowers, and I am not in the mood to admire the sculptures and solemn churches on the streets. The excitement and curiosity of arriving in a foreign country for the first time have disappeared. What should I do? There was no food in the house and I was panicked, and fear came over me.

According to the introduction of my husband’s classmate, I went to work in a Chinese restaurant. "Chinese restaurant owners are very stingy. They only pay one yuan an hour and rely entirely on tips. You have to be mentally prepared."

"Do you have a work card?"

"No. , just arrived.”

“Have you ever worked in a restaurant?”

“I can learn it quickly.”

"How is your English? Read the menu to me."

"Eggroll, spreribs..."

"Okay, just so-so, practice more, and come to work tomorrow Come on, wear black pants and a white shirt."

I took a long breath, my face was full of sunshine, as if I had won the lottery. It was only when I got on the sedan that my ears pricked my ears. I looked at the Chinese restaurant menu in the phone book and memorized English dish names all day long, but it was not in vain.

I never thought that my first job in the United States would be as a waiter. On the first day, I was not assigned a table, so I was asked to study behind an old waiter nicknamed "Braised Chicken". One moment, I served soup, and another, I served Coke. The dishes and bowls at this table were not confiscated, and the other table was shouting for the check, so I ran away. Running around and flying around. At noon, I have to clean the buffet table, add water, and take out the dozens of stacks of heavy plates washed out of the kitchen. I have worked as an office clerk in China for many years, but I have never done such heavy work. My arms are sore and sore. But in the blink of an eye, I thought, I have to do it even if I don’t want to do it. The end of the month is coming soon, and the bills for the rent, phone bill, and electricity bill have already arrived.

I will always remember the first tip I ever earned was three yuan. It was given by three Japanese students aged 17 or 18. They came to the United States to learn the language because of their wealthy families, and they ate well and went to restaurants. , I actually have to serve them. "You need to eat, and I need money. There is no shame in relying on hard work to earn a living without stealing or robbing." Thinking about it this way, I should hold my chest high and hold my head high and take it calmly.

The next day, I dragged my exhausted body home with a greasy face and vegetable juices all over my body. I didn’t bother to take a shower. I took out the money I earned in a day and counted more than 30 yuan in a green pile. There are two five-dollar bills, the rest are one-dollar bills, and a handful of cents. Looking at the money, I smiled happily and relieved myself from the fatigue. I calculated that when I became familiar with it, the boss would give me more money, and I could earn more. In one month, it would be no problem to make more than a thousand, and the rent and living expenses would be enough. Now that it's settled, sir, you can concentrate on your studies.

My arm was burned by the cookie machine and was covered in blisters. I wrapped it in gauze and went to work the next day. I accidentally broke a plate and was pointed at by my boss and scolded. I shed tears in front of my husband when I got home. I still showed up in the restaurant in the morning; I was not given a tip by a rude and stingy customer, I was so angry that I cursed my father and mother, and forced myself to smile at the next customer... When I first came to a foreign country, survival was more important than anything else.

A few months later, I sent five hundred dollars to my parents in the countryside in China, telling them that I was living a good life in the United States. The place I lived in was the same as a hotel in China, and I could easily earn a lot of money. , and put on the cheongsam and high-heeled shoes brought from China, took a few photos in front of the landlord's car and sent them.

I originally thought that when I came to the United States, I would often attend banquets, like the life of a lady and gentleman in Hollywood movies, but I didn’t expect that I would wear black leather every day to work, and the clothes I brought could only be worn when taking photos. one time.

The silly sister wrote back and said: "Sister, it is an honor for our whole family that you can go abroad. I envy you so much." I said in my heart that you are not honored or envious when you see me carrying dirty dishes non-stop all day long.

Most of the people who work as waiters together are women, basically the wives of international students, in their twenties and thirties. The husband goes to school and the wife works to make ends meet. They all have very good jobs in China, such as doctors, teachers, secretaries, etc. They can be described as "high-end" waiters. We are often laughed at by the kitchen chefs: "You women are all here to support your husbands."

"It's none of your business to support your husbands." This is also the helpless choice of "accompanying students". When I came to the United States, I couldn't speak well and had no status, so I could only work in a Chinese restaurant, but think about it: "Military medals are half of yours and half of mine."

We will also quarrel about whether it is good or bad to fight for the stage, more It was time to talk and laugh. During lunch, while making crab angles and picking snow peas, a few women put on a show, chatting about children and husbands, singing Huangmei opera in dialect, and telling dirty jokes. On weekends, a few people got together and went hiking to pick apples. When someone gives birth to a baby, everyone goes to see her and give her a red envelope to show her appreciation. We call ourselves "foreign queue-jumping".

Soon, we bought an old car with more than 2,000 US dollars I earned from working. My husband first obtained a driver’s license.

Every day before getting off work, I would put 25 cents on the public phone and ask my husband to pick me up: "Come on now, I'm fine." Just this sentence can reveal my emotions. , sir, he will know how the business is and how the income is today as soon as he hears my tone on the phone. When the tip is good, the voice is clear and cheerful, but when the tip is bad, the voice is deep and depressing. As a waiter, I rely on tips. Sometimes the customers are generous and give me ten yuan for a meal of thirty yuan. But if I meet an Indian or a Soviet person, I will be screwed. I will give two or three yuan for a meal of fifty yuan.

I always leave the restaurant earlier, breathe the fresh air outside, let the evening breeze blow, enjoy some quiet time alone, and look at the moon in the sky that is different from my hometown.

“I also want to go to school.” In the autumn when my husband graduated, I passed the exam and became a student in the intermediate ESL class of a university, bidding farewell to my career as a waiter. Some of the wives of other international students moved with their husbands who found jobs, some returned to China to pursue careers, some gave birth to their second children and became stay-at-home mothers...

I have moved many times in the past ten years, but I have never left them behind. I took off the apron that I used to wear when I first came to a foreign country as a waiter and served a plate with pencil tips in the ledger. Maybe it was to commemorate the ups and downs of the long journey of immigration.