Who am I?  To answer that question I have to ask you, who are you?  You see, I have spent my life learning that I disallow myself to be the same person around everyone.  I assess my surroundings and change my tone, attitude, and thoughts to accommodate those around me.  I can be one person around my family, another person when at work, and yet another when with my friends.  Even then I have to ensure that within those categories of people that I have adjusted accordingly as not to disrupt the order thereof. 

    It’s a very simple concept to understand.  In basic form, look back into your childhood.  Now imagine you are sitting in church on Sunday morning with your parents.  You have been trained to sit angel-like, quietly and patiently, with full intent.  Everyone knows that you really don’t want to be there.  However, you know that if you aren’t on your best behavior behind will be tanned and chances are it won’t be from the sun.  Time passes and the service is over, it’s time to go home.  The moment you pass through those church doors you are heading for the car tearing clothes off along the way, happy to be free again. 

    When you get home a neighbor calls you up to go to the park.  You change into your t-shirt, jeans, and tennis shoes.  You’re laughing, playing games, and being loud.  Childish is now acceptable.

    In following suit, I have dealt with the same thing.  My family comes from a very strict and rigorous religious background.  It’s something that has been instilled in me from a young age.  On Sunday morning, we would get up early to shower and dress in our best looking clothes.  There would be no dilly dallying and very little spoken communication even from the time we first awoke.  It was understood that we were all going to church and that we had to be on our best behavior.  We would all pile into the ’79 Datson like drones.  It was ritual.  Mom, dad, my sister and I would sit in the front seat.  My three oldest siblings, the other sister and two brothers would sit in the backseat while the two remaining brothers would find somewhere to sit behind them under the hatchback. 

    Once arriving at the church my family brought back memories of the circus as nine of us in our own personal fashion would pile out of the car.  First would be mom and dad to get out of their respective sides of the car.  Each of them would pick up either my sister or I and remove us from the car.  Once we were out they would pull their seats up so the older siblings could climb their way out.  Finally, they would work their way to the back of the car so that the last of my siblings could get out of the car.  We would all line up for a military inspection before heading into the building: checking for proper grooming and dusting if needed.  It would be no surprise to find mother breaking out a tissue and moistening it with her love to wipe away a smudge implemented by the car.

    With the finishing touches applied we now advanced towards the church.  In a calm and quite manner we would all assume our respective seats as they had been since birth.  No matter how boring or tiresome the service, you were expected to be on your best behavior.  Talking was not allowed, squirming would get you a spanking, and if you ‘acted up’ may God have mercy on you.

    This has affected my sense of respect for my elders and people of influence.  Instilled at birth I was taught to live a strict and regimented life.  When I’m around my family I feel that my place is to be silent. It is hard to overcome such a strong base structure in one’s life.  

    Now, as one would expect I grew up.  I knew that it was only a matter of time before I would have to start making my way into the real world.  The first part of this meant that I would have to get a job.  I didn’t want to be like a lot of people who weren’t respected at their jobs.  I wanted to be a model employee.  While growing up, I had watched my father work everyday, sick or healthy, at his job.  He was a father to seven children and had a wife who couldn’t work due to an obligation to her family. He knew that he had no choice.  This was my model.

    At the age of sixteen I got my first job at the local ‘mom and pop’ restaurant.  It was a buffet style restaurant with a lot of opportunities to try different types of jobs in one place.  I found myself starting out at the bottom of the barrel as a dishwasher.  It wasn’t the most flattering of places to start but at least I had started.  Only a short time into my workforce career the opportunities started to happen.  People started quitting, holidays were just around the corner and there weren’t enough people to cover the necessary positions.

    Well, as you may have guessed, I wasn’t the happiest person to be sitting back in the smelly dish room.  There was a world of chance out there and I wasn’t going to let my chance pass me up.  I had noticed that they tended to favor friendly people for cashier positions and social people for server positions.  A cashier didn’t have to deal with the mess of food and only had to work a register.  A server got to wait on people and really made the good money.  Each of these titles were well respected by the people and management .  I wanted to be noticed and that is where I had to be to make that happen.

    I didn’t want to spend anymore of my time in the remedial job of dishwasher.  The time had come for me to change from being the quite guy who was always there on time, standing in the back cleaning dishes to the guy who would be out front and being seen.  My chance came when school started back for college students.
The college students would come in and work for the summer for a little more money and then be gone until the holidays.  A few weeks before the time came I started to make myself a little more seen by the owners.  They were really the ones who decided who would be in what position.  By staying later and talking to them once in a while after my shift, the opportunities were always coming up in conversation for me to subtly mention my desire for a new position.   In the end it was worth the wait.  When the time came for an employee shift to happen, I was given first call at my position of choice. 

    I chose to be a cashier.  The position for server was available but knowing that there would always be a need for servers closer to the holidays, the smarter decision would be to work as a cashier.  First off, it would allow me to learn a new job.  Second, the owners were impressed by my less greedy outlook.  Therefore, by knowing a second role in the restaurant and by not seeming selfish, I made myself nobler in the eyes of the owners.

    Again, this paid off. Just as I had suspected, when the holidays rolled around not enough staff was available to work the floor.  One day I casually hinted that I wouldn’t mind waiting on tables and the rest was history.  Within a week I was working the floor, making good money, and was almost invaluable to the restaurant.  I knew three jobs, wasn’t going away to school for a few more years, and seemed to be the type of employee they favored.

    Later I learned that by giving an employee or customer whatever it was that they wanted to hear I could achieve almost whatever my heart desired.  If I just played up on a customer a little more they were more apt to leave a larger tip.  If I appealed to the boss’s sense of loyalty they I was able to ask for whatever position I wanted.  This has given me a great sense of understanding in the workplace.  It’s being whatever character people want you to be that have given me yet another identity to use within my everyday life.

    However, I’m not done yet.  I haven’t told you who I am around my friends.  That’s a whole different spectrum.  When I’m around the people I’m most comfortable with it’s a whole different story.  This is the venue that allows me the most flexibility. 

    The setting is your typical college Friday night party.  There are many classes of people there:  jocks and preps, environmentalists, feminine activists, pot heads, easy going partier.  Within each of these people one can find different levels of tolerance and most defiantly opposing views.  I have to be careful not to say the wrong thing to the wrong person. 

    A joke about some girl’s breast will be the talk of the party for the jockey football player but the next petition for the feminine rights chairwoman.  A remark made about the intelligence of an athlete will send the pot heads and party goers rolling but will probably get my arms broken.

    There is opportunity to be yourself at these functions and in everyday life, as long as you know the people you are around.  Most people don’t want to upset the apple cart, so to speak.  They want to maintain the peace while still being their own individual.  Which leads me to my next point, what is identity?
   
    Can a single person say, with a clear conscience, that they know who they are?  Can one honestly look inside themselves and justly say that they know who they are?  Do we play games with others to keep the piece and satisfy the moment only to lose ourselves in the process?

    There is no identity.  There is only a chameleon of faces, emotions, and personalities.  The falsity that a person has their own identity is as achievable as the American dream.  It is not.  We are lost in a realm of lies and fake emotions.  I don’t believe that it’s an intentional state of being but it’s how we have been conditioned to maintain a certain level of peace and harmony in our society.  When I’m around my family I am the angel, when I’m at work I’m a godsend, when I’m with my friends I’m on pins and needles.

    In  a world of lies and mixed feelings one strives for a peace and calm reassuring that one day we will be allowed the luxury of finding our own identity and being ourselves.  Once you have found El Dorado, let me know the direction.