THE WAITRESS WITH THE FLASHING NECKLACE Sue and I decided to take a day and spend it at Peddler’s Village, a quaint shopping and eating area about 45 minutes away from home. As we drove up this morning, the snow was falling steadily, one of those wet snows my grandmother used to call a “bush bender.” It was like a Christmas card delight when we arrived. As we walked around the village, many of the shops were decorated with wreaths and bows, and I felt it was almost a winter wonderland. Regardless of my attempts to distract her, Sue pulled me in several shops and managed to spend money. We went from one store to another, snow lightly falling. It really was a perfect morning. And then I got hungry. A shop keeper suggested we try Nancy’s Cafe, a quaint little restaurant, she told us, with great Reuben sandwiches. Within a few minutes, we found it and went in and sat down at a table next to the window looking out on the falling snow. It was really delightful... or else I was in a very good mood. But.... everything went South with the arrival of our server, wearing a stocking cap, and a colorful holiday necklace, which blinked on and off. “I love your necklace!” I said to her, still in a good mood. “Yeah... are you ready to order?” “What’s your soup today?” I asked her. “Cale apple.” “Cale apple? What’s that like.” I had never heard of it. “I don’t know.” “Do you know anything about it? I mean, have you served it to other.” ‘No.” If a director was looking for someone who could play an incredibly bored, I don’t want to be here, server, she was standing next to me. I decided to try the soup, and we placed our order. Five minutes later she came back with my soup, no spoon, no napkin, no straws for our drink, no lemon for Sue’s water. “I’d like a Lemon, please,” Sue asked. “And a spoon,” I added trying not to look up. Two minutes later, she was back with my spoon. She tossed the lemon on the table leaving me fearful of asking for a straw. And this is how she was throughout our lunch. The beautiful snow, floating down outside, had all but disappeared in the light of the unhappy waitress. And, of course, I allowed it to happen. Throughout our lunch, she basically snarled and I increasingly felt annoyed, to the point I just wanted lunch over so we could get out of there. However, as she presented the check, our waitress suddenly turned sweet, almost nice. She giggled as she told me the check had gotten wrinkled. She wished us a happy holiday, and invited us to come back. I wondered if she had a twin somewhere in the kitchen who had decided to take her place. Now, I could Lament about this for three or four pages, and I was doing so to Sue who said, “Well, it was a hard place to work in, pretty narrow to get around, and she was just having a bad time of it.” Well... that’s fine. First the waitress took away my peace, pours cold water on my winter wonderland, and then Sue steals away my judgments. The last thing I truly wanted to consider was the waitress’s side of things. I really didn’t care if it was narrow in the Cafe, or if she was having a bad time of it. At that moment, I wanted a witness, a partner in my judgments of one lousy server, who spoiled my day and ruined the snowfall. A few weeks ago I was writing about grace - giving someone love, or compassion even thought they haven’t earned it. Underneath all my bad feelings, Sue was sort of suggesting we might offer that to our server, the meanie with the flashing Christmas necklace. I guess I need to go back and read that Lament. All I know it it’s stopped snowing, and I never even got to try the apple pie. And, yes, I tipped her, the meanie I mean, but sadly, not from a loving place. My Lament for tonight is for the times it becomes much too easy to forget we all have it hard in this world, and all we need to work at making it easier for everyone. This includes waitresses who are having a bad day.
Posted on: Thu, 11 Dec 2014 21:10:32 +0000
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