I have no problem forgetting my own job when I am on vacation, but I can’t stop thinking about the workers I encounter when I’m traveling. I wonder about their lives and their livelihoods, how their days unspool behind them as they trek through the day at their jobs. I never romanticize the workers in the tourism and service industry because I know how hard they work with long hours, unpredictable tips, and demanding customers. I see the tired eyes and aching feet of waitresses, the slumped shoulders of defeated taxi drivers, the worn weariness of hotel housekeepers. Only Hollywood has the power to add some luster to the grind of the workday.
So, when we stop at the iconic Mystic Pizza in Mystic, Connecticut, I see in the faces of the waitresses the glamour of Julia Roberts as Daisy, the innocence of Annabeth Gish as Kat, and the humor of Lili Taylor as Jojo. I forget for a moment the hassle of getting to work on time, the struggle of being in the weeds when the orders pile up, and the strain of being on your feet for hours. There is only the glow of youth, the banter of friends, and the joy of being with people you’ve known your whole life.
When we slide into a booth at Mystic Pizza, the movie swirls around me, flashes of the plot, Julia Roberts hair, the throb of young love~the kind that brings joy and hurt in equal measure. The pizza delivered to the table jolts me back to the present. It sits on a pedestal which is precisely where it belongs. We relax into the meal, forgetting for a while the tracks of the waitress as she hustles from table to kitchen making a well-worn path. We know from experience that just beyond the wall, the vibrant kitchen is bustling with orders going in and food going out. The work here is fast and furious during the busy hours. But places like this also easily become close knit hives of work and friendship. Sometimes it's the work that binds you and sometimes it's the people. If you’re lucky, sometimes it can be both.
Studs Terkel wrote famously about the nature of work in his book Working: People Talk About What They Do All Day and How They Feel About What They Do. He was interested in telling the work stories of regular people rather than the grand stories of extraordinary people. He believed that work should be about finding more than a “Monday through Friday sort of dying.”
Dave Isay, the founder of Storycorps, continued the research of Terkel in his book Callings: The Purpose and Passion of Work. Storycorps collects the oral histories of everyday people about all facets of life. But this collection focuses on the work lives of people from beekeepers to nurses, grocers and educators, vendors and sculptors. Real people tell their stories of how they found their chosen professions and what keeps them tethered to the workday.
Ever curious about people, I feel a bit like Terkel and Storycorps when I’m on vacation, and I see the people working. Chris is the one that actually lets his curiosity lead him into conversations while I’m more comfortable observing and wondering.
On our honeymoon, we took the hotel van from the airport to our resort on the Caribbean island of St. Lucia. Chris didn’t hesitate to jump into the front seat of the van to sit next to the driver where he learned all kinds of details about the man’s life. He also befriended a young man who worked at the resort. They connected over vintage Adidas shoes and reggae music. By day 2, Chris was off the resort, in a taxi, headed to a locals only store to buy Adidas you could never find in the States. He met the young man’s family in town and returned with a mixtape of original reggae songs.
In Paris, we took a taxi from the airport to our hotel. Chris sat in the front seat, and learned about the life of our driver and his plight to make a life in the Paris housing projects after coming over from Ghana. They talked about soccer in simple English and family and the joy and hope of opportunity in a new country.
Chris on vacation is just like Chris in the classroom. He always validates the life experience of anyone he encounters. In conversation with him, one always feels at ease, unjudged, and seen.
To be seen is really the most important gift we can give to those around us. But it doesn’t pay the bills.
Chris doesn’t just leave good feelings behind on our travels; he also leaves money. If Chris were ever a rich man, he wouldn’t be one for long. He would give it all away.
It doesn’t feel that long ago that Chris would show up at Pizza Hut near the end of my shift waiting to see me, to be with me. We would sit in the booth huddled together counting my tips with glee some nights and frustration others. Then, we would pool our money together and make plans for spending it at the movies and on food. Not much has changed in 30 years. Now we huddle over our teacher pay stubs and the bills, but we always pool our money together and spend it on the things we love to do.
Whether in Mystic, Connecticut or Castries, St. Lucia we always tip big because we know the struggle. And we do it whether we have the money to spare or not. Perhaps controversially, we do it whether the service is good or not. Sometimes people just need a boost whether they earned it or not.
The truth is we always try to tip big for many reasons, some selfless and some selfish.
One of the selfish reasons we tip so much comes from an irrational belief about good energy and positive mojo. An act of kindness feels like a toll sometimes when we are on vacation, a karmic exchange...money for safe passage. Not sure if there’s any definitive proof that it actually works but it makes us feel better believing it just might.