Against my better judgment, I agreed to fill in as a hostess at a local Italian restaurant on Friday.

A good friend works at the establishment and called me, explaining they were in a bind. The regular hostess couldn’t come in, and they couldn’t find anyone else to take her place.

Having never worked as a waitress – or in any restaurant other than a coffee shop – I was hesitant to accept the offer, but hearing the hint of desperation in her voice, I agreed. Before hanging up I explained that I had no previous experience and she reassured me saying, “Don’t worry. It’s easy. Bring a book.”

What she failed to mention was that it was the Friday before Valentine’s Day, and between the romantic couples, the 20-person party and the families looking for a fun Friday night out on the town, the restaurant would soon turn into a circus of people.

So, here I am, behind the hostess counter, trying to keep track of which tables seat two and which tables seat six, making sure each waiter and waitress receive an equal number of tables and trying to convince Steven – party of four – to just wait the extra 15 minutes for a table instead of leaving.

Needless to say, I didn’t have time for that book I was encouraged to bring.

The three hours I spent hostessing were three of the most stressful hours of my life. More stressful than putting together several issues of the Optimist, more stressful than that semester I had three jobs and more stressful than finding out I was two hours short of graduating.

I wanted to quit. I wanted to walk away. But instead I made myself take away some life lessons – and material for a column – from the experience.

First of all, I realized that restaurant staffs are almost always underappreciated, under-acknowledged and underestimated. I was working hard – or at least it felt that way – but I didn’t have to take orders, serve food or bus tables. It’s easy to blame the help, and they can deserve criticism, but everyone should thank the good ones.

Secondly, by the time the ordeal was over, I knew I didn’t ever want to do it again, but I knew I could if I had to. Anytime you do something for the first time, it will present challenges, but walking away is the easy way out. Pushing through the trials of not knowing what to do and the awkward, uncomfortable mistakes almost always reveal an eventual improvement.

Lastly, I decided everyone should experience the joy and pain of serving others. It’s not easy, and it’s certainly not always fun, but it helps us appreciate those who serve us and often lends a new perspective.

So, while I’m not planning on quitting this editor gig to become a full-time hostess, the experience did teach me a few things, and I got free coffee. And, any story that ends in free coffee is a good one.