Table 51. It was Sunday brunch and my section seemed to keep expanding like a bagpiper’s lungs. I like being busy. I don’t like making mistakes. Everything was going along seemingly well when I realized that one table in my section didn’t have food and those around them who ordered later, did. My stomach sank. Was it the kitchen or was it me? I hustled off to the kitchen and didn’t see a ticket. My stomach sank again. It was my fault. I knew that I had to come clean and just break the news. A lump formed in my throat. I went back to the table and just laid it out on the line. I told them I messed up. Not the kitchen. It was me. I would buy their breakfast if they had time for me to actually send it in this time. They were peeved only a little bit, they were hungry after all, AND they were sympathetic. At the end of the meal, one woman told me that she appreciated me owning the mistake and they still tipped me generously.
Table 61. Ms. Melvin (90 years old) and her daughter (in her early 60’s). I would never in a million years have guessed that but they told me. It is no secret that I have a soft spot for senior citizens, I always have. Now that my dearest grandparents are no longer with me, I’m even more of a softy. These two darlings joined us for Sunday brunch after seeing the exhibit. They were keen on including me in their discussion of the Gauguin works and had no shortage of things to discuss. They were vibrant, beautiful ladies that clearly enjoyed themselves. Brunch started with a mezzo of red wine and a side of our amazing bacon (this was the appetizer). They took their time, they talked, they smiled, and they dined. The next two courses followed with another mezzo of red wine. The two closed us down being the last guests to leave the restaurant. Their visit warms a part of my heart that almost makes me verklempt. What an inspiration.
These stories are all around us if we choose to see them. I hope my sight for spotting them reaches beyond the walls of the restaurant.