My name is Patrice Grant and I’m a front-of-house customer service representative in a pizza restaurant carryout.
I’m from Siparia. Not like the Prime Minister: she moved; I was born and bred there.
Nothing would happen in Siparia that everyone wouldn’t come together and try to assist. Whether it be a wedding, a funeral or a christening, you couldn’t deny there was a love. It helped personally foster socialisation, growth and well-being.
A lot of people are moving into Siparia now. And not all the elements are positive—or even legal—so the diaspora has changed.
We didn’t lock doors, didn’t close windows. Now, you have to be very, very careful. But that’s the entire world now.
I recently moved up to La Romaine and it is different. I’m renting there. Until, hopefully, my minister gives me the [National Housing Authority] house I’ve applied for. I have two boys.
Daniel recently turned a year. And my bigger son, Devaughn, is 11.
Children their age are being exposed to drugs in La Romaine. But I was blessed that the gentleman I met in my teens, Barry, is the gentleman I’m married to now.
I’ve worked since I was 12 years old. My father wasn’t able to take care of all of us. I grew up in a matriarchal home so we not accustomed having a male around anyway. When we need to get something done, we go out and get it done. I ironed clothes for people and it helped out a great lot.
My maiden name is Thomas but I have serious Amerindian blood. My paternal grandmother was 100 per cent dark-skinned Carib. And her father was a Venezuelan of the Warrahoon tribe. I have the same thing on my mother’s side. But I can be a Trini nowhere else but here.
Whatever I do, I expect a certain level. I don’t expect it from people. But I expect it from myself. Because I set a very high standard for myself and I know my capabilities.
Digital reading changes our whole approach to reading. If you have to read a real book, you have to go into a bookstore or a library. Which requires social interaction. So reading a real book fosters social ability. When you’re reading on your iPad, you’re just at home, vegetating. It has affected how the world itself deals with each other.
Whenever I notice people in a group, every individual looking down at their phones, if it’s possible, I start a conversation and encourage them to socialise. That’s what you came out together for! They have to stop what they’re doing to see what this waitress is up to. Their attention comes off their phones and on to me and, from there, I disperse it back on the table. Nine out of ten times, when I come back to the table, I notice the phones are down.
You cannot expect a positive response from a negative action.
I take offence if I can see your boxers. I told a gentleman I wanted to give my constructive opinion if he wanted to hear it. He said, “Yes”. I told him, “Sir, this is a family-oriented establishment. Is it possible you could just pull your pants up a little? It’s a bit low and it’s a bit offensive.” I smiled when I said it. He was like, “Okay, no scene, Miss, you asked me nice.” A gentleman jumped up behind: “Watch them! That’s all they good for!” I said, “Excuse me, Sir, but, in the same faith I spoke to him respectfully, I’ll ask you nicely not to be that way.”
My job entails a lot of patience and smiling. People are hungry and [can be] angry when they come to pick up food. But I read the play and adapt to suit. I welcome people in a bad mood with a big smile.
The best parts of the job are engaging with the customers—and feeding them! The most winning experiences are when they begin negative and turn out positive. It’s an awesome feeling to satisfy people.
Trinis are, unfortunately, mostly laissez-faire about things they should be serious about. But we have that capacity for agape love. Even the animals pass and wag they tail and want to lick your foot!
Trinidad and Tobago is home and I would grieve if I had to leave. I cannot leave.
Read a longer version of this feature at www.BCRaw.com