Welcome to my blog!
I will give fair warning as an introduction to my first blog post. While I do not wish for my relationship with anyone whom decides to follow my constant ramblings via a blog site to start out as anything other than positive, I will admit that the undertone of the start will come across as negative. This is not my intention. My hope is that you will take my experience for what it is. It may make you frown, laugh, roll your eyes or knod in agreement and all of this is okay... as long as it sparks some kind of thought. I suppose the reason I have actually started writing again instead of just talking about it can be attributed to a very specific series of events yesterday at work. I'll begin at the beginning...
The day began just as any other... only it was cold... real cold. The news had said it would be reaching record breaking temperatures overnight. The windchill would be -30 in some areas and as I turned off the television the night before, it was already -6. I was thankful to be bundled up in bed with extra blankets, two cats near my feet and husband that would make the sacrifice of cuddling with me if I chose to stay still for more than an hour. The alarm went off and that's when my thankful feelings came to an abrubt stop. I was bitter to have to get up and get ready for work. It was cold outside the sanctuary of my bed and I had just been in the middle of a very intense dream which I can no longer recall the details of. By the time Jason and I left for work, the feeling had settled in deeper. I was pissed to have to go into a job I no longer feel personal satisfaction or growth from and even more upset that once again I would be walking with $30... If I was lucky. Scratch that... in this weather and with all the school and work closures I had heard of, I decided to immediately lower my expectations to $15. But I would be damned to stay in a closing section to make that extra money I so badly need because when push comes to shove, I can't stand spending more time at work than necessary unless I'm sitting at the bar with a beer or glass of wine in front of me. I can't complain about my income when I'm not willing to take the small steps to fix it... and this is a whole other story in itself.
As we are crossing Auraria on Speer, I get a reminder of just how lucky I am to be on my way to work after sleeping in a warm bed. There is a man crossing the street right in front of us holding what I imagine to be his only assets. Everything is stuffed into three white trash bags of which two are slung over his shoulder. The other drags down at his feet as if he just doesn't have the willpower to add that third bag to the load already on his back. I think back to my last thoughts as I feel asleep the night before which was a pang of worry and curiosity if the ferrel cats whom live in the barn behind my house had lived through the night. I make a mental note to keep my eyes open for the little one I took in for a weekend in an attempt to find him a home. I'm not sure if Jason is thinking the same thing as I am as I watch him cross the street but I decide to make it known that I am. "Can you imagine being homeless in weather like this?" I ask. "Shit." He says. I wonder if there is anything else to really say about the situation as the light turns green and we continue the drive.
We have this thing called "shift meeting" or "pre-shift" or "sales meeting" or whatever else it has been called in the hospitality industry. We rendevous in an inconspicous area of the restaurant before we open to go over any imperitive information pertaining to specials, contests, fish of the day, etc. I have found that I tend to make mental lists of things I want to get done that afternoon after my shift or what I what for lunch instead of listening to these meetings. Whoops. Maybe it was the few sips of coffee I had already or the fact that I was in direct view of the manager but I decided to listen in on the information this particular morning. It was the usual mumbo jumbo of information and what was once inspirational to me quotes to live by. At the very end, our general manager (Melanie) concludes her thoughts by slipping in: "After what happend in our foyer this morning, let's all remeber to keep the perspective". I glance at Jason and shrug. He returns my look of wonder and we both start ask "What happened?" "We had a man in his seventies die early this morning. He was homeless from what we think and he ended up at the front of our restuarant. The paramedics couldn't resesitate him." I can't help it. I look at Jason and purse my lips and knod. That's what else I wanted to say but couldn't bring myself to in the car. There was no way someone who was sick or elderly or even in good health could have lived through a night that cold on the streets. But once again, there is nothing else to say other than the hushed "wow" or "oh my God" comments that all my other co-workers have already beaten me to. The shift begins with a little less laughter and a bit more solomn than normal.
My first table is three woman who look to be in their mid 60's. Out for a lunch with friends they may not normally get to indulge in. I often picture my friends and I doing this same thing in 30 years when we are all retired and able to get together on a random weekday. I can't help but notice the book lying on the table is a novel written by Jodi Picoult, an author who crafted a story in which I have just finished reading. I take the opportunity to strike up an otherwise unlikely conversation with the woman. I tell them I have just finished "My Sister's Keeper" and how much I enjoyed the story even with the extremely sad ending. We chat about the movie and one of them even offers up some suggestions for further reading material. By some strike of luck... she brings up the title of the book I have just started over the weekend. 'Jackpot!' I think to myself as I walk away. It's not the tip I am necessarily after with these women (although I'm not going to deny it is always an added bonus) but the ability to relate on a level that makes me feel as if they view me as a real person and not just the girl who should be refilling their water when they've only had one sip. I'll take this opportunity to admit that this has become something of an obbssesion of mine over the past few years in the restaurant industy. Some servers don't care about the interaction with their tables and can be treated as low as possible... as long as the money is left at the end of the meal. I've even been known to say this from time to time when I don't feel like being particularly talkative with my tables. On the contrary, I have lately begun to wonder what is so important during a business meeting that you can't at least stop and thank your server for filling your water glass or clearing your plate at the end of your meal. It's two words and it doesn't take much time... but it sure does mean the world to me. Anyways... back to the story... So, these ladies, whom I would otherwise classify as a typical old caddy ladies to expect me to be there when they need me and dissapper when they don't, now know that I like to read on my spare time and I will use this to try and be seen as more than the faceless server they will spend the next hour with. The food is dropped and they marvel at how large the portions are and smile as I tell them to enjoy. All is well...
How stupid am I?
I return to check on my VIP table (and I use VIP status because we have now established a relationship over our love to read) only to find the friendly interaction has now disappated into an unhappy and angry table full of ladies I almost don't recognize. "She doesn't like her patty melt! THAT is not a traditional patty melt! And what is with the bread? It's too much... it's really too much!". I take a mental sigh and begin the regime of what I can do to fix the situation. "I completely understand. How about I get a different one started for you on different bread? Can I bring you a menu and we can find you something else that might taste better to you?" I really do want to make this better for them as I bet they do not get to meet very often and are looking for a good experience outside of cooking for their husbands on a daily basis. I go to reach for her plate to let her know that I am more than serious about getting something she would like out instead of this. She bats my hand away... "No, no no. I don't want to have to wait for you to fix it. It's fine. I'll just deal with." I am almost startled by the way she has just morphed into what I wanted her so badly not to be... the typical pissed off customer that doesn't want me to really fix anything but rather to stand in my place and take the critisim I deserve. It's not the point of what she is saying, but rather the way she is saying. In fact, I couldn't agree with her more. I never eat the Italian bread we have at work because it's a little rediculous in size and a traditional patty melt doesn't have crispy onions and yellow cheese. But she wants to put me in my place... so I let her. I am back to the status of the girl who should be bringing me a water instead of making up excuses for why her sandwhich sucks.
As I drop the check with the sandwhich removed from the bill I apologize again for the inconvience and decide to make that one last attempt to get back to the friendly relationship we held an hour ago. "Next time you stop in, just let whoever is taking care of you what exactly you want. We have all the ingredients to make a traditional patty melt and it would be incredibly simple to make it." I stop in my tracks. By the look on her face, I can tell she has just taken what I said as an insult, as if I am now blaming her for not telling me what she wanted in the beginning. At this point, I decide to give up. I thank them for coming in and tell them we look forward to seeing them next time... although this is a complete lie.
They leave me a great tip (but I believe it to be only because the bill was ten dollars less then what they expected). I wish I was in the mood to let this be a remedy of their unhappiness but somehow it is just not enough. I remember to jot down the book "Room", which was one of the books they had suggested early on in the meal. I am thankful that they are no where in site when the fire alarm goes off ten minutes later and we are told the building has to be evacuated. That might have put them over the edge to never return...
That night as I am getting ready for bed I find the piece of paper with the word "Room" written on it. I log on to Goodreads so that I can add it to my virtual bookshelf before throwing the paper away. The reviews are good and I am excited to find out the concept of the novel. On the side, there is an exerpt from the book which I can't help but engross myself into. I read it and find myself more confused than I was during my plight with my table. The quote reads... "In the world I notice persons are nearly always stressed and have no time...I don't know how persons with jobs do the jobs and all the living as well...I guess the time gets spread very thin like butter all over the world, the roads and houses and playgrounds and stores, so there's only a little smear of time on each place, then everyone has to hurry on to the next bit."...
My thought is this... how is it that these three woman were so incredibly intuitive to what the writer was saying that they just had to recomend the material to me. One even claimed to have already read it twice even though it is rather new. It doesn't have anything to do with being nice to one another but rather the time each person has and how precious it can be. I don't know what happened at that table while I wasn't there but maybe she got a call saying that one of her parents were going to loose their battle with cancer. Maybe they got a call that their sister got laid off and would need help with taking care of the kids next month. Probably not but it's possible. Maybe the least of her problems was the sandwhich that came out less that perfect, but maybe she just needed a reason and a person to take her anguish out on. And you know what? I'll be that person today because I slept in a warm bed last night and after what I will claim was a shitty morning, I now have a place to go home to with a man I love. I will not be getting a call that my uncle died last night on 16th street mall because he was in his seventies and couldn't live through the cold... but someone will. So my lesson is this... while I will continue to bitch about my job and the people who choose to treat servers as if they will always be at the bottom of the totum poll, I choose to take this specific experience as a learning opportunity. Tell those who are close to you that you love them because tomorrow is not a gurantee and keep the perspective.
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