Tamara and Jewel
Late at night, when the dining room was empty, I’d stare at the sugar shakers that needed refilling and ponder what life would have been like if I weren’t there, behind a counter waiting for my next customer to walk through the door. In most normal circumstances a young girl of sixteen wouldn’t be here at two in the morning – but what was normal after all? I guess normal, for most girls my age, was gunning for varsity placement on the volleyball team or touring prospective college campuses. But for me, normal was working double shifts serving country fried steak and hot blueberry pie with a side of vanilla ice-cream to crude truckmen and families unable to afford the fancier Applebees next door.
Serving didn’t come naturally to me, but despite my propensity for dropping plates, I was adopted as the beloved child of my older colleagues, Tamara and Jewel. During our shifts, we would work in tandem, dancing through the compact corridor between kitchen and dining room, occasionally prompting one another with an on your left!, coffee for table 7!, or 8’s food is in the window! Together, we perfected the waltz of the truckstop waitress.
Fall of 2010
Tamara, me, and Jewel
Once the tables in the dining room had fallen silent, Tamara, Jewel, and I would roll silverware and marry salts, peppers, and ketchups in preparation for the following day. To my chagrin, their guidance wasn’t always limited to waitressing etiquette alone. If ever I tried sneaking out the back door before finishing my homework, Tamara would holler, "Allison, grab a booth and do your homework first!" Begrudgingly pulling out a textbook, I would sit as they stood sentinel over me, only leaving my side every now and again to silently bring me a coffee or burger.
Having spent most of my school years at a conservative christian private school, I dreaded my public high school. I lacked the basic lexicon of popular culture and found myself alienated much of the time. Between the drudgery of the classroom and the daunting price tag of a college education, I would have preferred to drop out, get a GED, and find a second job. But with a guardian's eye lingering over me and the ever-looming threat of a freshly sharpened pencil placed next to my cup of coffee, I was eternally subject to Tamara’s and Jewel’s considerations.
May 2010
Graduating with honors.
Our lives are forever bonded through the years of menial labor we endured together, day after meaningless day spent carrying trays laden with food before a final hour of mopping, stocking, and cleaning. This indelible bond led me to drag myself out of bed and drive 20 minutes the wrong direction for morning coffee dates with Tamara and Jewel every Wednesday before first period.
These moments became the highlight of my week. Sitting in the greasy diner across the street from our employer, the retired grandpas read their papers with their cigarettes and coffee while Tamara, Jewel, and I shared a mountain of creamy biscuits and gravy. As we filled our bellies, we nourished our souls with meandering discussions about everything from our favorite customers to dreams of seeing the Grand Canyon. We sat together with love, compassion, and an unshakable drive to never stop working toward our dreams.
Weeks passed and seasons changed and the chirping birds and budding trees meant the end of my senior year had nearly arrived. With my graduation requirements complete, Tamara and Jewel wanted to know what my future plans were. A blank stare and a gulp of coffee to run out the time wasn’t the answer they were looking for.
Tamara would stretch her hand across the table, set it gently atop mine, and with her soft midwestern drawl say, “Honey, you gotta go to college. You can do better than an old truck stop waitress.” Jewel wasn’t quite as nice about things. I can still see her knuckles turn white as she muttered, “you have studied too hard to stay workin’ in this damned town.” They eventually convinced me to apply for university, and thanks to their incessant goading, I had managed a GPA that made up for my atrocious ACT scores (I had fallen asleep during the exam after another midnight shift).
In the Autumn of 2010, before I packed up my worn gray Honda and left Newton, we had one final date at Tamara’s house. Walking into her living room that day, I saw both women sitting on a faded floral couch, beaming with pride. Placed atop Tamara’s aged wooden coffee table was a cake coated in decadent white frosting and purple letters that read Good Luck Allison!
August 2010
My farewell cake from Tamara and Jewel.
That luck could have won me the lottery. Two post-graduate degrees later, I’ve lived in four countries and traveled extensively. Whenever I felt like I couldn’t keep going, I’d remember all the coffee dates and late-night homework sessions spent with these two matriarchs at my side. It wouldn’t occur to me until nearly a decade later that charting a path to success had been as much a favor to them as it was for me.
May 2014
Graduating Summa Cum Laude with my bachelor’s degree.
May of 2016
Receiving my master’s degree.
One bright morning in September of 2022, I had just sat down with a french-pressed latte concoction in my New York City apartment when I received a devastating message from Tamara. We had lost Jewel in a tragic failure of the American medical system. At 39, Jewel was too young to leave this world, not to mention her young son, behind. My heart ached as I recalled the love that radiated from this woman every time she flashed that trademark gap-toothed smile and opened her arms wide for a hug. I felt a pang of shame as I was hit by the heart-rending realization that I had never thanked these two mentors for the profound impact they had had on my life.
A few days later, I made the pilgrimage home to Kansas and arranged to meet with Tamara. Sitting on another worn floral couch, Tamara and I reminisced about Jewel and her undying optimism. Tamara placed her hand on mine, like all those years earlier, and I could almost hear Jewel gently whisper, Don’t stop seeing the world, Allison. Before heading to my sister’s house to pack up and return to NYC, I gave Tamara one last squeeze. Tears welled in our eyes as she said, “We are both so proud of you darlin’. You’ve done it.”
Much like the dream of going to college, my trip to South America is another attempt at stepping out on my own to face the world. But just like Tamara and Jewel, who wouldn’t let me give up on myself, some of you reading this post are the very reason I packed my bag and bought that one-way ticket. From the magical feeling of stepping into the gleaming white tent to meet LeAnn Rimes to the crossing of the stage to receive my High School, Bachelor’s, Master’s, and eMBA degrees, it is the love of mentors like Tamara and Jewel – and so many others – that has nudged me back toward a path I’ve been unwittingly charting my whole life.
April 2022
Virtual graduation for my eMBA while traveling in Aruba.