Lady Loca

An older lady with short hair, crazy eyes and a crooked smile sat at a table outside.  The sun was shining and happy hour had just begun. 

I greeted her.  She ignored my “How are you doing today?” question and immediately asked me to read her the happy hour menu because she didn’t have her glasses.  She then asked me to bring water with lots of lime and lemon squeezed into it so she didn’t have to “taste the chlorine.”   After I spent several minutes explaining every single happy hour food and beer selection on the menu, she finally decided on something. 

That wasn’t too out of the ordinary, but her mannerisms were.  Not once did she look me in the eye and hers were wandering all over the place.  She also had a hard time sitting still.  She kept shifting her weight and moving her arms and legs around.  She definitely wasn’t drunk, but she wasn’t sober either.   Whether her high was from a plant or the kind you need a prescription for, she was undoubtedly feeling good.

I observed her from inside of the restaurant.  She was basking in the sun and drenching her legs with her lemon-lime chlorine water.  She was talking to herself as well as singing out loud.  My busser and I looked at each other and shared a laugh.  “What the hell is going on out there?”  He laughed, “Ella es muy loca.”  She was crazy; she definitely had a few loose screws upstairs.  Then he joked, “I don’t’ even want to go over there again.” 

The next time I looked over at her table, I noticed something I’d never seen anyone do before.  She’d ordered steamed clams and a pilsner – that was nothing unusual.  But what was unusual was that she stacked all of her empty clamshells into her empty pilsner glass, and in addition, stacked her used lemon wedges on top as if it were a garnish.  It was a work of art, I will admit.  But seriously, who does that. 

It was a busy happy hour and I was slammed with other tables.  I honestly didn’t give her too much attention (although her recycled art project kept catching my eye).   She seemed entertained enough with herself as it was and frankly I didn’t want to get sucked into whatever planet she was living on.  I feared I might never return to planet Earth if I got stuck in her orbit for too long.  I decided to take my busser’s advice and to spend as little time as possible in her outrageous layer. 

However, the inevitable happened and she needed me again.  She wanted a different beer this time and another appetizer.  After going in circles a bit (figuratively and literally as far as her eyes were concerned), she decided on a cheese plate and a light beer.  I walked away as soon as she decided, although I think she was still trying to tell me something else… Lord only knows.   No matter, I had six other tables to attend to. 

Another half hour or so passed and I’d been busy juggling a full station.  Time had flown by.  I looked over at Lady Loca and noticed she was gone.  Her beer was empty and her cheese demolished.  Uh oh.  Was this her plan all along? God I should have seen this coming.  I asked my busser if he’d seen her leave.  He hadn’t.  I asked the host if she saw anything.  She thought crazy lady went to the restroom.  Part of me didn’t believe her.  I wanted to, but didn’t. 

I kept waiting tables, albeit flustered and longing for crazy lady’s whereabouts. 

Then, reappearing like some type of crazed hippie, I caught a glimpse of her, prancing down the stairs to our so-called music.  She was shaking her hips and waving her arms as if she was back in the 60’s in the front row at Woodstock.  I heard her say out loud (to no one in particular), “I love this music!”  Keep in mind no one even likes our music, let alone loves it. 

I printed her check and cautiously walked over to her.  “Enjoying the music, are ya?”  I grinned, trying to hold back a laugh.  For the first time since meeting her, she actually responded.  “Oh yes, it’s lovely!  Everything’s been wonderful!”  I presented her check and she opened her wallet.  Another table waved at me.  I told her I’d be right back.  I kept my eye on her, observing from afar.   She struggled getting her card out of her wallet.  Another server began to help her.  He offered her a pen.  It seems she’s signing a room charge.  Room charge?  Impossible.   My crazy, high, little hippie lady is actually staying at our hotel?  Figuring the odds of her writing an incorrect room number were extremely high, I immediately walked over to her.  “Are you staying in this hotel ma’am?  Is this your room number?”  She said yes, along with a few other words I could barely make out.  I checked the room number with her name.  It matched.  Then I noticed the amount she signed.  The check was about $30 and she signed to just over $60.  Did she mean to leave a 100% tip?  I had to do the right thing and ask.  Enthusiastically she replied, “Oh yes, honey.  This was the best afternoon I’ve had since I’ve been here! Thank you!”  She pranced out the door and down the boardwalk.

Wow. 

Talk about a whirlwind of amusement.  I felt like I should have paid her for the entertainment she provided. 

Lady Loca you’re welcome back anytime.  ~ HK ~

Just Roll With It

I love when a potentially awkward situation at a table isn’t a big deal whatsoever because the people I’m waiting on are just that friendly, fun and entertaining.  If only all of the guests I waited on were as cool as this group, my job would be so much more enjoyable.

I walked up to a table of three men.  Immediately one of them looked at my nametag and used my name to say hello.   I love when this happens.  It usually signifies he/she a true people person who likes to connect with others.  I do the same thing when I go out.  So logically, I felt a connection with this table right away.

The three of them had been out in the sun for what must have been the majority of the day based on how sunburned and tan they were.   They looked a bit parched and acted similarly.  The same guest who used my name ordered a bottle of wine and stated he wanted to drink a California Zinfandel while they were in California (they were visiting from Michigan).   He ordered a bottle.  When I brought it out and opened it, I noticed it had a slight brown hue.  That’s not a good sign.  The first guy tried it and said, “Hmmm… “  He didn’t say it was bad but I knew it wasn’t good.  I poured the other two gentlemen a small glass anyway.  I told them, “Zinfandel’s aren’t usually this brownish color.  They’re usually deep purple and more dark berry-like in color.  It might have turned.”   Disappointed with this bottle and feeling let down (as I’m sure they were as well), I offered to bring them a different one.   That’s when one of the guys piped up and said he’d drink it regardless and we all shared a laugh.

After checking on a few other tables, I returned to my Michigan table.  The one who ordered the Zin looked up at me, used my name again and told me they just couldn’t do it – they wanted a different bottle.   Strike one. 

I agreed, apologized and brought them the wine menu again.  He picked a different California Zin.  After visiting a few more tables, I returned with his second choice, opened the bottle and poured the second first glass.  He didn’t seem too pleased.  He gave me another pensive, yet comical look.  I felt bad.  I asked him what he thought and he didn’t say much.  At this point I was wondering if they were just buzzed from the days adventures or just messing with me… or a little bit of both.  So I thought I might as well play along.    

I picked up a red wine glass to taste this one myself.  One of the guys said, “What, you don’t believe us?”  I said, “Of course I believe you,” and with a slight sense of sarcasm I kept going, “I just want to join the party.”  We all laughed.  I poured a small sip into the glass.  It smelled like cardboard; a dead giveaway for a corked bottle.  I took a sip anyway.  “Yep.  Corked.”  Damn.  Strike Two. 

In an effort to not get a full-blown strike out, I recommended he pick a label he knew (unfortunately, as I knew his whole intention with choosing the other wines was to experiment with wines he didn’t know).   Just then one of the other guys cracked, “I’m about ready to just to go with a Jack and Coke at this point.”  Luckily his tone was playful and he said it with a smile, although I’m sure a Jack and Coke did sound great at that point.    

After talking briefly with a few other tables, I got the third bottle of Zin.  I opened it and poured a bit into his glass.  It wasn’t brown.  That was an improvement.  And it didn’t seem corked.  Also a plus.  He took a sip and faked spitting it out.  We all laughed out loud.  He quipped, “Just kidding.  It’s great.”  Yes! Saved from a strike out.     

I’ve had a few scenarios in my time as a server where this similar situation didn’t play out well.  It either ended in a) having to speak with a manager, or b) comping their entire meal, or c) the guest becomes so irritated that their group walks out altogether.  But these Michigan natives kept their cool.  And although I’m sure it was irritating on many levels, they didn’t let it be known to me and decided to just have fun and roll with it.

And roll with it we did. 

Thank God for people like this in the world; it’s these types of individuals that keep me serving humanity.  ~ HK ~

Fate

Working as a server is very fascinating to me for many reasons.  One of its biggest appeals is that literally anyone – from all walks of life - can walk through the door and become your next guest.   There’s always an opportunity that the next person I wait on will change me in some way.  There’s always that chance it will change the way I think about someone or something, or a certain place … or perhaps even change my life.  I know that sounds a bit grandiose, but let me explain.

Just last month I happened to wait on Dr. John Gray, famous author of Women are from Mars, Men are from Venus, among other books.  It was quite surreal. He shared some of his research with me in regards to men and women in the workplace for his latest book Work with Me.  He shared some powerful insights about gender differences that will remain with me forever.  He definitely left a lasting impression on me.

I recently waited on a couple and their daughter who were not our typical clientele who left a completely different kind of impression on me.  They were dressed like they’d just crawled out of the slums and I was sure the dad was high on methamphetamines.  I was as kind as I would be to any guest but I was a very cautious of how I approached them, especially when it came time to present the bill.  The woman took out a debit card out of the pocket of her hooded sweatshirt.  The card worked, although she didn’t sign it (and it was a male’s name).  She did leave me a $20 dollar bill.  They paid and I got my tip so everything worked out in the end.  Seeing this family though truly made me appreciate my own family and how I was raised.  What a blessing to have that reminder while just simply working another night shift.     

Then there’s the ultimate head rattler of a guest: when someone you cared about deeply in your past walks through the door unexpectedly.  This happened to me on Sunday.  It was like a movie.  I saw him walk through the door as I was walking to the back of the restaurant.  I thought, “Wow that sure looks like {I’ll call him} Danny.”  I thought for sure it couldn’t be him.  We went to Junior High and High School together and hadn’t seen each other since.  He didn’t attend the ten-year reunion as I did.  Nor had I seen him on Facebook or any social media sites (lord knows I tried to find him).  I had no clue of his whereabouts.  As I walked back down by the bar, I peaked over at him again.  He saw me look and he called out my name.   Sure enough, it was him.  He was in San Diego for a work conference and happened to choose that restaurant for dinner with co-workers.  We were both in shock.  Talk about time traveling back into the 90’s.  Wow was I distracted for the rest of my shift.  I couldn’t really focus on my tables at that point.   We exchanged numbers and ended up going out for drinks the next night.  We caught up on life and shared a long overdue conversation.  I felt like a small void in my life had been fulfilled.  I know it happens a million times a day all over the world, but when it actually happens to you, it’s a very special thing.  It was literally life changing.

I try to see the bigger picture of my job everyday.  There’s usually a lesson to be learned in someway or through someone.  If I just saw myself as a server I’d be miserable.  I get the opportunity to meet famous people, authors, old friends, wealthy business owners, actors, foreigners and people with stolen credit cards and every type of person in between.

The universe brings certain people together for very specific reasons.  Fate is a beautiful thing.  ~ HK ~