Personal Narrative: Inside The Kitchen

As a Chinese-American, my family expected me to help out at the restaurant while maintaining straight A's in school. But, it wasn't easy; every day, I would report to the restaurant after school and immediately start working. Inside the kitchen, I would pack all the orders into aluminum containers, place them into a brown bag, and insert packets of sauces and utensils. Burns and cuts were common due to the terrible and tearable aluminum containers. Outside at the front desk, I would answer the seemingly endless ringing phones. In many instances, customers had to wait either on the phone or at the front desk for me to find their orders on the computer, even after they showed me where it was on the menu. During lunch hours, the pressure was even