By Ann Farabee

In some ways, I believe serving students in the college cafeteria while attending Gardner Webb and serving customers at the Pizza Inn while attending UNC Charlotte, seem to have been almost as educational as the college courses I was taking at the time.

While serving my peers in the college cafeteria, I said things like, “Pizza or taco?” Yes, I was on the serving line with my hair net on, saying the choice of food over and over to people who mostly never looked at me, because they were studying the food choices in front of them. I did not mind feeling invisible. Food is something I understood.“Potatoes? Beans?” I would continue. It was my daily dinner routine as I worked my way through college. I was there to serve. Serving mattered.

When it came to my other job at Pizza Inn, the entire scenario changed. Three days out of seven, I would work from 4 p.m. until 4 a.m., drive back to my dorm and sleep until time for class. Other than the tired feet, I thought it was remarkable being a waitress. I think I would have loved making a living at it. I got to be super nice to people who were there to enjoy pizza. The nicer and more competent I was, the happier the customers were. The happier the customers were, the more money I made. That pretty much summed it up. Serving mattered.

Then, there was the job at McDonalds, where I could get off work around 2 a.m. I loved nothing more than using a cash register and counting back change to customers. As the night ended, the managers checked our registers and mine always returned monetarily perfect. I was quite proud of that since this was in the days before the register told you how much change to give back to the customer. Maybe that is a reason I became a math teacher?

Mostly though, I liked to serve. Adding the perfect scoop of potatoes to the tray in the cafeteria, handing over the perfectly cooked slice of pizza at the Pizza Inn, or making sure the Big Mac handed to a customer was wrapped properly, bagged beautifully and not smushed was my mission.

I must admit, I enjoyed it.

I liked interacting with people to get something they wanted to them — and for it to be just right.

My favorite times were the busy times, when there were four lines of customers across the front of the store at McDonalds.Working as hard as I could, I would move quickly and and efficiently to make sure every customer was happy.

However, no job beat working in Cannon Mills where I worked 8 hours a night during the summer on a very loud Twister machine in Number 7 Spin. It was non-stop, but during those hours, my dreams for my life were formed, while the rest of Kannapolis was sleeping. It was so loud that I could talk, sing and pray at the top of my lungs and no one could hear me. I talked to Jesus. I sang to Jesus. I memorized the words of Jesus and carried prayer requests and Bible verses in my pockets as I walked around the twister machines all night long, while wearing my required ear plugs. What seemed redundant to my coworkers was life-changing for me — because I spent those nights walking around my three huge, loud machines while seeking God. What a great education I received staying up all night with Jesus!

Not long after that, I finished college and became a teacher. One day, as I was walking around my classroom helping students, I realized that I was still carrying Bible verses on a post-it in my pocket every day. If I did not have a pocket, I would put them on my desk.

Those experiences are a huge part of how I became me. Those years were formative, which means they served to form me, which means they had a profound and lasting influence on my development.

It actually made me smile to type this:

I believe I was a great McDonald’s worker. I believe I was a great Cannon Mills worker. I believe I was a great teacher.

I loved it all.

Of course, I was not paid enough at any of those jobs.

But, I was there to serve. Serving matters.