Aftermath

I went to have breakfast at my favorite restaurant. It's an older, small, laid back ma and pa operation. The food is excellent, and I love the relaxed, easy atmosphere there. The people who work there have got to know me, and my foibles, and I know them. Life is grand!

Of course, though, into every life a little rain must fall. In the case of the restaurant, the cloud on my epicurean horizon is one of the waitresses who works there. Please don't misunderstand me, as a person she is a real sweetheart.

As a waitress though, well, there are a few rough edges, such as forgetting to take your order, bringing the wrong order, or even forgetting you have walked in and sat down.

You know, I've learned to adapt. I really like eating there, reading my book as I do so, and using the sugar container as a paperweight. It's a nice and easy place to be. Starbucks it'll never be, and this suits me just fine.

So whenever Susy (names have been changed to protect the innocent) is working, I have learned to shift into patient mode. After all, she is how she is, and I've gone there to relax and have a meal, not get myself upset.

Today, though, Susy is even more skilled than usual at forgetting, banging things around and delivering the wrong order to the wrong table. When she finally makes her way over to me, I see she is visibly trembling, and on the verge of tears. I ask her what was wrong.

It turns out that, earlier, someone had lost their temper and literally yelled at her, calling her a lousy waitress, stupid, and worse. Seems it got so bad that a couple of the other regulars came to her rescue, and invited the gentleman to leave under his own steam, or else find himself hitting the parking lot face first.

She told me the whole story. Wow. She finally took my order, and I sat thinking about the times I've felt impatient or irritated with her. All things are relative, though, and I wouldn't dream of passing my feelings on to her, as minor as they were, in the general scheme of my life.

I thought back over times past, before I learned to stop shooting my mouth off so much, and I offered a silent apology to anyone I may have hurt while indulging in a tantrum.

A few days later, I stopped in for breakfast, and guess who was waitressing. I asked if she was having a better day than the last time I saw her. She laughed, and replied today was going just great, and thanks for asking.

It was a humbling experience to have come upon her, trembling and on the verge of tears, and to experience the effects of verbal abuse on another person.

The cheapest thing in the world is a word. The right ones become priceless, and the wrong ones we cannot buy back at any price.

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