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.