纽约时报(New York Times)每年都会发起征集活动并从中选出5篇优秀的个人陈述，这些陈述都特别地涉及到了金钱(money). 工作(work)或社会阶层(social class)的话题。下面文章由留学群小编所整理，希望能帮助到您。
今天推送的是第二篇，来自Caitlin McCormick，她回忆了童年时在她父母的家庭旅馆所看到的服务行业的阴暗面，这些经历使她对潜在的各种社会歧视变得敏感，开始参与到志愿者行列中去，并在这之后对服务者的角色有了不一样的看法。
‘Slowly, my mother’s gingham(条纹棉布) apron(围裙) began to look more like metal armor(金属盔甲).
When it comes to service workers, as a society we completely disregard the manners instilled(被灌输的) in us as toddlers(学步的小孩).
For seventeen years, I have awoken to those workers, to clinking(叮当响的) silverware rolled in cloth and porcelain(瓷器) plates removed from the oven in preparation for breakfast service. I memorized the geometry(几何构造) of place mats(餐垫) slid on metal trays(金属托盘), coffee cups turned downward, dirtied cloth napkins disposed on dining tables.
I knew never to wear pajamas(睡衣) outside in the public courtyard, and years of shushing(用“嘘”声让…静下来) from my mother informed me not to speak loudly in front of a guest room window. I grew up in the swaddled cacophony(嘈杂声) of morning chatter(唠叨,喋喋不休) between tourists, professors, and videographers. I grew up conditioned(习惯于...的) in excessive politeness, fitted for making small talk with strangers.
I grew up in a bed and breakfast (https://peppertreesinn.com/), in the sticky thickness of the hospitality industry. And for a very long time I hated it.
I was late to my own fifth birthday party in the park because a guest arrived five hours late without apology. Following a weeklong stay in which someone specially requested her room be cleaned twice a day, not once did she leave a tip for housekeeping. Small-business scammers(骗子) came for a stop at the inn several times. Guests stained(脏的) sheets, clogged(堵塞的) toilets, locked themselves out of their rooms, and then demanded a discount.
There exists between service workers and their customers an inherent imbalance of power: We meet sneers(嘲笑) with apologies. At the end of their meal, or stay, or drink, we let patrons(顾客) determine how much effort their server put into their job.
For most of my life I believed my parents were intense masochists(受虐狂) for devoting their existences to the least thankful business I know: the very business that taught me how to discern(识别) imbalances of power. Soon I recognized this stem of injustice in all sorts of everyday interactions. I came to understand how latent(潜在的) racism, sexism, classism and ableism(体能歧视) structure our society — how tipping was only a synonym(同义词) for “microaggression(微歧视).”
I became passionate. Sometimes enraged(忿怒填胸的). I stumbled upon(偶然发现) nonprofits, foundations, and political campaigns. I canvassed(游说,寻访) for Senate candidates, phone-banked for grass-roots(基层的) action groups, served as a board member for the Women’s Foundation of Southern Arizona, reviewed grant applications for nonprofits and organized events for the nearby children’s hospital.
I devoted my time to the raw grit of helping people, and in the process I fell irrevocably(不可改变地) in love with a new type of service: public service. At the same time, I worked midnight Black Friday retail shifts and scraped(擦掉) vomit off linoleum(油毡). When I brought home my first W-2(Wage and Tax Statement 保税表格), I had never seen my parents so proud.
The truth, I recently learned, was that not all service is created equal. Seeing guests scream at my parents over a late airport taxi still sickens me even as I spend hours a week as a volunteer. But I was taught all work is noble, especially the work we do for others. Slowly, my mother’s gingham apron began to look more like metal armor. I learned how to worship my parents’ gift for attentive listening, easily hearing the things guests were incapable of asking for — not sugar with their tea, but somebody to talk with while they waited for a conference call. I envied their ability to wear the role of self-assured host like a second skin, capable of tolerating any type of cruelty with a smile.
Most of all, I admired my parents’ continuous trust in humanity to not abuse their help. I realized that learning to serve people looks a lot like learning to trust them.
