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That Awkward Moment When You Cry at Your Table.

30 April 2013 —

Disclaimer: This was supposed to be a short story... I don't know what happened.

Like actually cry. actual tears. at the actual table who's order your supposed to be taking. Whooo does that! me, apparently.
 It was supposed to be a slow Wednesday night with the exception of a reservation at 4Pm for 20 of the residents from the old folks home. But i mean, naturally if your expecting it to be slow you can bet that everyone and their great step uncle twice removed is going to pop in for dinner. Right around the same time that your group of 20, sliiiightly confused/confusing, elderly folk are trying to pay. All separately,  most tax exempt, and none actually handing over the money themselves. Which meant 20 envelopes with 20 names for 20 separate bills. I am a good waitress.I enjoy my job. I'm friendly and I thrive under pressure. But trying to separate a massive bill while trying to teach the hostess the new system while trying to get to the 9 top that I know is ready to order while also needing to do a million other things for the million other tables..its as exhausting as that sentence, and i almost lost it. I stopped Lindy for a quick confirming of who had what tables and, whoops, one had been forgotten. I had walked past them probably 30 minutes earlier and they had kind of given me the 'are you our waitress cause we're looking for you' look.. but I was like no I'm positive that's Lindy's table. Except I guess I wasn't positive because I guess they really were mine. I started towards their table gearing up for my massive apology and before I could even begin one of the lady's grabbed my arm and goes (in a cute little southern accent that sounded like my grandma's) "Honey, just take a deeeeep breath. Look at us, we're all okay here just take a minute and breathe" oh good grief, I cried. I just lost it. I expected them to be livid. I was prepared for the rude comments. But instead they were all smiles as they told me over and over that they were just enjoying chatting, could see that I was running around like a crazy person, and weren't upset in the slightest. Kindness, that darn stuff works wonders. I got it together and the night carried on. The correct money went to the correct envelopes, my 9 top got their food, and my blessing of a table gave me massive hugs on the way out.
 They've probably flown home now and will never think again of the waitress that cried, but I just cant shake them. It makes me wonder what kind of customer I was before I started working on the other side of things. It makes me wonder what kind of person I am in day to day annoyances.  I don't usually write about Jesus on here beyond a bible verse or saying that He's great. My relationship with him is something that's so personal to me, it usually feels too personal to share. But before every shift I shut my car off and say a tiny prayer that he'll bless me while i'm at work. That he'll give me kindness and patience, and that he'll shine through me however possible, I think maybe they prayed for the same thing that day. After all, it's my job to be patient and friendly, but to get it back so undeserving when i'm about to lose it. That's Jesus to me, and that's something I hope some random blogger in a far off state would say they saw through my own actions.

on a side note: even without that glorious table, the entire night would have been worth it just to see the parade of wheelchairs and walkers coming through our back door. aaaaadorable. seriously. the pioneer home here is so great with their residents, and before all the craziness Lindy and I really were enjoying waiting on them and answering questions like "am I aloud to have Vodka?" and "can you tell me what I ordered?" classic.