I want to thank the author of the response to my piece. For a month, I’ve been sitting uneasily with what I published. I wrote and submitted it too quickly, driven more by impulsivity than careful thought. I felt dread as soon as I saw my writing online, and then avoided thinking or reading about it. I had the lingering fear that it did not represent my character—it was written in a moment of insecurity that I didn’t examine, reflecting a bias I hadn’t fully confronted but allowed to shape my writing.
This week, I learned about the response to my work that was published in the Herald. I want to admit that this critique is what I needed and wanted to see about my article. It revealed what I couldn’t figure out myself during the writing process, and showed me how distorted my voice had become.
In a brief attempt to portray my discomfort with an Ivy-League mentality that certain careers are more respectable than others, my piece resulted in perpetuating that message. I believe that working in a restaurant is dignified work like any other career. But in that training shift I let my concept of what other people might think cloud my judgement, and in portraying that without qualification, I failed to honor my own beliefs. This combination—I was grateful to have a job, yet was concerned about what certain individuals on campus could think about it—led me to write with an insecurity-ridden attempt at dry humor that I now recognize as offensive. Because I didn’t spend enough time thinking about my writing, the article ended up demeaning a working-class job and the people who do that work.
I don’t think food service is beneath me or anyone, yet I couldn’t shake off the rat-race cultural messaging that pervades this university community. I’m on full financial aid and have held other minimum-wage jobs at Yale and in New Haven to pay for the expenses of college, though none as public as this one. I agree that comparison is the thief of joy. But by quitting on the first day I set aside the challenge of untying that mental conflict, one that I unfortunately did not address before it appeared in my story.
What I pitched to the Herald was a stream of consciousness account of the shift and my thoughts leading up to it. It was a few pages long, though, and I was asked to shorten the piece and to focus on the narrator. I cut down most of my positive but meandering anecdotes about the job and took a different angle with the style to produce a more deadpan tone. Further context about my own situation and low-income background was deleted from the article, and it allowed the weak comic narration to perpetuate a well-documented, better-than-thou Yalie voice that I’m embarrassed to have been a part of.
My tangled-up feelings about being seen at work and my underdeveloped treatment of this idea made the article, I agree, tone-deaf and offensive. I didn’t mean to degrade the job or make its employees part of a joke. I had no problem with the work itself at Shah’s. I was pleased to be there, to be given a chance to test out the job with a short training shift before being officially hired. I don’t think the service industry is incompatible with being a student at Yale.
Despite that, I held internal shame about being perceived by people who didn’t share my perspective, allowing my own unresolved anxiety to guide the piece instead of examining it honestly at the time, or revisiting it more critically afterward. My article was the product of a spineless insecurity, perhaps one I
could have improved on the longer I stayed at the job. One I should have worked on in my own time, and one that I’m working on now.
On a smaller scale, I also erred in deleting most context for my attempt at humor in the article. I relied on jokes that only made sense from my own perspective without considering how they would read to others. What I intended as self-deprecating—my habit of fumbling people’s names, not being a “hat person,” being hyperbolic and performative about personal hygiene—ultimately contributed to the error of my dismissive and ashamed tone. The job wasn’t funny, or ridiculous, or absurd. It was a respectable job like any other.
What I wrote in my article was a mistake. I appreciate the kindness of Chandana and Yash in helping me navigate my first shift in food service. I should have investigated my personal hesitations before deciding to quit and before publishing them. I apologize, and I regret it deeply.
In the end, I’m thankful for the response and pushback to my story, for both the tough criticism and the grace that was afforded to me. I’m ashamed of the effect of my words. Confronting these mistakes has been difficult, but it has given me a clearer understanding of my own blind spots and biases. I want to do better, and this experience is the first step to getting there.
