The ‘Quiet Moments’ of Waitresses at Work

Melissa Breyer moved to New York to become a painter and ended up becoming a waitress, first at a pasta place in Greenwich Village, then at a bar and grill in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. She enjoyed the social aspect of the work, but especially the quiet moments, when she could daydream “about the books I was reading or conversations I wanted to have or shoes I would like,” she said. “Things I wanted to do, places I wanted to go.” As she made the transition to photographer, writer and website editor, she found herself drawn to the stories playing out behind the windows of the restaurants she passed. The waitresses, especially, caught her attention. When they weren’t reciting the nightly specials or balancing dinner for four on one arm, what were they thinking? The photographs here, taken from either side of the restaurant window, ask this question without trying to answer it.

“They all have lives,” she said. “They have a place where they live and have histories. When they’re paused in reverie, that’s the entry point for where the stories begin. I make up narratives for them sometimes. Maybe one of them is practicing to be a Rockette. There’re so many possibilities. This is a city of eight and a half million separate films. Each person is a film. I say, ‘Here’s the star of a story.’”

If the waitresses shown are like their photographer, one thing they were not thinking about was how to tell the big tippers from the cheapskates, Ms. Breyer said. “I never made an effort to figure that out,” she said, adding that “the best thing is when you’re completely surprised.” She did, however develop a condition common among former servers, she said. “I’m guilty of extravagant tipping, even if the service is terrible,” she said. “I just say, ‘Maybe they’re having a bad day.’”