Before COVID, I found myself in a restaurant where the owner came over to chat with me. He was incredibly nice. I shared with him a story from my days as a graduate student. Back then, I had a strong desire to work as a waiter. I even went to several restaurants in town and interviewed for positions. However, I have rather unusual-looking hands, and when they asked how I’d carry things, I demonstrated. Unfortunately, they didn’t like it and thought I would look too strange. As a result, I didn’t land a job as a waiter.
I told the owner that ever since then, I’ve always wanted to be a waiter. I asked him if he would give me a job. He looked at me and said, “You know what? This restaurant is a bit too upscale for you to start as a waiter. But I have another restaurant that’s more casual. Why don’t you come and be a waiter there?” I enthusiastically agreed .
Then he suggested two things: That I be a waiter for a few days and also try being a bartender for a few days. So, I did just that. I spent some time as both a bartender and a waiter, learning quite a bit from the experience.
The main difference I noticed between the two roles was rooted in the physical setup of the job. As a bartender, you’re at the same height as your customers, looking them straight in the eyes. This creates a human connection. As a waiter, however, you’re standing while people are sitting, so you look down at them and they don’t necessarily look you in the eyes—especially if it’s a large table.
At the bar, people treated me more like another human being. There was more consideration, discussion, and casual chatting. In contrast, at the tables, I felt more like an employee—someone there to serve them rather than engage with them on a human level. For example, one time when I was cleaning up after someone spilled something at their table, they completely ignored me without a thank you or acknowledgment whatsoever.
This got me thinking about how physical environments influence our recognition of each other’s humanity. When we’re on the same eye level, we tend to acknowledge each other more as fellow human beings. This raises questions about other environments—like hospitals with glass separations where staff talk through partitions or courts where people sit at different heights.
What if we designed these spaces differently to maximize our recognition of each other’s humanity? How might that change our interactions and outcomes? It’s worth considering how different design could lead to more recognition of humanity on both sides.
