So I have a different setting for this post. I volunteered at Children's Camp this past week. I traded the steak house for Bridgeport Camp right off the lake. It's a funny story how I even got to go. I signed up for classes this fall, and with the timing, I was not gonna be able to afford to take the time off from work. One of my regular customers found this out, and gave me an extra big tip to help allow me to go. Funny how I make decisions and then God kinda shows me there is a way I don't know yet. So anyways, on to the post. I have volunteered at a number of different camps/mission trips. So many people see it as self sacrifice, but I really see it is a time to find myself.
Maybe I just get caught up in the rat race too much, but too often I think of the wrong things to define myself. It is in the camps/mission trips, I see myself in the kids/campers that I serve. The following is a story about a kid I will call Ronald.
On the surface Ronald appeared like most other kids at camp. It wasn't until a day into camp that I realized some simliarities between me and Ronald. One of the first things I noticed was Ronald was a little slow to get ready to leave our cabin. I like to be on time, but can adjust if need be. After waiting on Ronald again, I said something to the effect of "Ronald I'm waiting on you again, let's go!" I was trying to motivate him, but he took it personal. I felt horrible when he responded "All the other kids have sandals and crocs and I only brought shoes." I informed Ronald I understood and that I would wait on him anytime he needed me to.
On the way down the hill one time, Ronald gave a very nice compliment to one of the other boys out of the blue. It really warmed my heart to hear him speak so nicely of another kid, with no motive or intention of getting something back. He spoke what was on his mind. I then told Ronald I thought it was very nice of him to compliment our friend like that. It broke my heart when he shrugged me off and said "No, I'm not nice." I tried to explain how nice I thought he was, but found out it would take a larger effort than I thought to change his mind. Every chance I got, I tried to affirm Ronald, and let him know how nice he was acting. The truth is, he has a heart of gold!
Another incident that happen was Ronald went to tap someone on the shoulder and the kid turned so Ronald kinda slapped him. It truly was a mistake and once the other kid understood, he forgave Ronald. But it took a while longer for Ronald to forgive himself. It took the effort of multiple adults to point out that he had no reason to be so upset, and that it was a simple mistake.
I saw myself in Ronald. So many times I feel like I am the last kid in the God's cabin, sometimes complaining about the hand I have been dealt. Thankfully, He waits for me every time. I have also suffered from beating myself up at certain times in my life. Even to the point I didn't believe people's compliments, even those from my own family. Forgiving myself for things I have done as also been very tough at times for me. I believe God leads the way for me in that regard too.
By God's grace, I no longer am bound to those defeating feelings anymore. But to see those actions and beliefs in someone else, can be very enlightening. And to have an opportunity to help someone else realize their true self, is truly a Gift from God!
I tried to make a dent in some of those areas I thought Ronald could use some help. I pray that wherever he is, he knows he can grow. The truth is, I can rest easy because I know by my own experience that God cares for those who seek Him, and I know Ronald is seeking Him.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Salvador, letting go of a dream
So, if I am gonna share stories about kitchen staff I have worked with, I must share about a busboy named Salvador. I must say that his is a story that is difficult to tell, mainly because I feel I could have done more. Salvador is a great guy who happen to be the victim of some horrible circumstances. Let me also preface this story by stating I am no medical doctor, just connecting the dots from different clues that have been relayed to me. On with the story...
Salvador ended up in the ER a few months ago. Among his symptoms; pneumonia, total kidney failure, and a slew of other malfunctions relating to these issues. I heard that he was in the hospital, and set some time aside to see him. The severity of his condition was not relayed to me at first. When I arrived at the ER, one of the nurses said "He must be here for a reason, in my many years in this place, I have never seen someone survive with this low of a kidney function. Had it been even a couple hours later, he probably would have died."
I was shocked! At first to hear that he was that close to death, and second to hear that the nurse kinda openly hinted towards God playing a role. I know medical professionals have spiritual beliefs, I just had never heard them being shared in that way. Dialysis was the immediate cure, but what would his long term cure be? That was my first and most troubling question. After news of his story spread at work, a collection was taken and to the best of my memory a few hundred dollars was collected. In fact I remember sharing his story with a generous regular of ours and him handing me a $100 bill and demanding that I give that to Salvador.
After a 2 week stay and admittance to Medicare, he was released from the hospital. He was to go to dialysis twice a week. Things looked great! Then came the paper mess, which I am sure was not helped with the fact that Salvador is not "properly documented."
I want to take some time here, cause I think some folks might be thinking, he should just pack his bags and go back home. I really can't imagine what has gone on in Salvador's mind. First, he lived to fulfill his selfLESS dream of coming to the U.S. to provide for his family back home in Mexico. Ask any 20 something American teenager how important it is that THEY provide for their parents and other siblings and you can see the difference in cultures. Not only did Salvador want to provide for his family, he went to extraordinary lengths to do so. Risking death just to get here. Then living in conditions that were humble at best. And then to the 70, sometimes 80 hour workweek that took more energy than even a healthy teenager might have. All this, while never complaining about "days off," "boring mondays," or "when is the next vacation?" Salvador lives as if it is an honor and privlege to live and to serve his family the best way he can, which is to work.
Except now, Salvador can't work anymore. Like I mentioned above, I often thought, why not just go back to Mexico? I remember talking with one of his closest friends at work. I posed that question, and he responded by saying he wanted to get back to work. Here was a man, who needs dialysis to stay alive, and was barely able to get that, whose soul wish was to work again. I put myself in Salvador's shoes for a moment. Imagining for a few minutes, the brutal journey here, the long weeks that turned to months and years. The satisfaction of sending thousands of dollars back home to his mom and other family. I then understood why he was still here.
This is supposed to be about serving. But like I mentioned above, I don't really feel good about how I have served Salvador. Sure, I got him a Cross necklace, and visited him quite a few times in the hospital. Sad to say, it's been a couple months since I have spoken with Salvador. I do check with his friends who still work with us often on his status. They say he is ok, just not covered for dialysis, so they have to wait til he gets sick to take him to the hospital.
One way I have thought about serving Salvador, is serving some tables! You might think I'm crazy, but here is what I was thinking. To advertise with friends and church family about a night I would wait tables and ALL my tips would benefit Salvador. The idea being, he wants to work to take home some money to his family, and if we were able to provide him some, maybe he might consider going home. Mind you, I think he can receive adequate care back in Mexico, but am not sure. I think being around his mother and other close family members would be great for him. I sure would want to be around my family when dealing with the stuff he is.
Salvador ended up in the ER a few months ago. Among his symptoms; pneumonia, total kidney failure, and a slew of other malfunctions relating to these issues. I heard that he was in the hospital, and set some time aside to see him. The severity of his condition was not relayed to me at first. When I arrived at the ER, one of the nurses said "He must be here for a reason, in my many years in this place, I have never seen someone survive with this low of a kidney function. Had it been even a couple hours later, he probably would have died."
I was shocked! At first to hear that he was that close to death, and second to hear that the nurse kinda openly hinted towards God playing a role. I know medical professionals have spiritual beliefs, I just had never heard them being shared in that way. Dialysis was the immediate cure, but what would his long term cure be? That was my first and most troubling question. After news of his story spread at work, a collection was taken and to the best of my memory a few hundred dollars was collected. In fact I remember sharing his story with a generous regular of ours and him handing me a $100 bill and demanding that I give that to Salvador.
After a 2 week stay and admittance to Medicare, he was released from the hospital. He was to go to dialysis twice a week. Things looked great! Then came the paper mess, which I am sure was not helped with the fact that Salvador is not "properly documented."
I want to take some time here, cause I think some folks might be thinking, he should just pack his bags and go back home. I really can't imagine what has gone on in Salvador's mind. First, he lived to fulfill his selfLESS dream of coming to the U.S. to provide for his family back home in Mexico. Ask any 20 something American teenager how important it is that THEY provide for their parents and other siblings and you can see the difference in cultures. Not only did Salvador want to provide for his family, he went to extraordinary lengths to do so. Risking death just to get here. Then living in conditions that were humble at best. And then to the 70, sometimes 80 hour workweek that took more energy than even a healthy teenager might have. All this, while never complaining about "days off," "boring mondays," or "when is the next vacation?" Salvador lives as if it is an honor and privlege to live and to serve his family the best way he can, which is to work.
Except now, Salvador can't work anymore. Like I mentioned above, I often thought, why not just go back to Mexico? I remember talking with one of his closest friends at work. I posed that question, and he responded by saying he wanted to get back to work. Here was a man, who needs dialysis to stay alive, and was barely able to get that, whose soul wish was to work again. I put myself in Salvador's shoes for a moment. Imagining for a few minutes, the brutal journey here, the long weeks that turned to months and years. The satisfaction of sending thousands of dollars back home to his mom and other family. I then understood why he was still here.
This is supposed to be about serving. But like I mentioned above, I don't really feel good about how I have served Salvador. Sure, I got him a Cross necklace, and visited him quite a few times in the hospital. Sad to say, it's been a couple months since I have spoken with Salvador. I do check with his friends who still work with us often on his status. They say he is ok, just not covered for dialysis, so they have to wait til he gets sick to take him to the hospital.
One way I have thought about serving Salvador, is serving some tables! You might think I'm crazy, but here is what I was thinking. To advertise with friends and church family about a night I would wait tables and ALL my tips would benefit Salvador. The idea being, he wants to work to take home some money to his family, and if we were able to provide him some, maybe he might consider going home. Mind you, I think he can receive adequate care back in Mexico, but am not sure. I think being around his mother and other close family members would be great for him. I sure would want to be around my family when dealing with the stuff he is.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
My friend Bulmaro
After thinking about how much Juan taught me I was reminded how much one of my current co-workers has taught me. His name is Bulmaro. Perhaps one of the nicest people I know, some people may say that about a lot of people, but Bulmaro really is top notch.
Back when I was renting a house with my brothers, all the cooks would come over and hang out. Often times we would wind up arm wrestling, racing each other down the street and other various competitive things to one up each other. Bulmaro was always very respectable of our house, and of me as a person. Every time he came over to my house he told his wife it was my birthday, after the summer, she imagined me to be 40-something years old!
It was a really unfortunate event that drew me and Bulmaro closer. He was changing out the fry grease, and accidentally stepped in it. 2nd degree burns in his leg were the result. Me and Edgar, another one of the cooks, took him to the hospital. He insisted we not call his wife, forever trying to be humble, he knew his wife was throwing a party for her brother who was leaving for Mexico the next day. The last thing he wanted was the attention to be on him, really! His brother who also worked with us knew better, and so he called his wife. She met us at the ER, and to that point Bulmaro was in pain, but kept it together. But when his kids came running in, he could not hold his emotions any longer. Perhaps what he feared the most, was that he did not know what this would mean to his family. At the time he had 2 daughters and 1 son. The daughters were elementary school age and took their cues from dad and started to cry. I comforted them by assuring them dad would be ok. Although I wasn't totally sure, if there was a way, Bulmaro would do whatever it took to get through this.
Edgar and myself were a bit upset to hear they wanted to transfer him to Parkland, insisting that this would be a workers comp case, so there was no need to send him to the county hospital. One of the nurses informed us, that Parkland's burn unit was the best in the world. Me and Edgar stayed up all night that first night, to be sure Bulmaro got settled in, and did not get lost or forgotten. He continually tried to tell us to go home, and that he didn't need us to be there. We knew that, but we wanted to be there. A few days later, Bulmaro joked with me about how I taught him English, citing how useful it was to talk with the nurses. I always told him he would need it to talk to his kid's teachers, but he used it the nurses first.
Since his burn, Bulmaro has cited his appreciation for what I did very often. He never forgets what I did for him. I can't talk about this situation without mentioning all of what my other co-workers did. We took up a collection and were able to buy him some magazines to read while laid up, and a rosary type cross that he insisted stay with him at times, even during the skin grapht they did.
I recently lost a bet to Bulmaro over the US/Mexico soccer game. When I went to his house to pay him, he immediately handed the money over to his older daughter. He had promised he would give her the money if he won. What a great dad! She was happy Mexico won, and that I paid the same day!
If I had to use one word that Bulmaro embodied to me it would have to be HUMILITY. Always kind and doing what he can, and never really wanting the applause for it. I hope I can be half the man and father Bulmaro is.
Back when I was renting a house with my brothers, all the cooks would come over and hang out. Often times we would wind up arm wrestling, racing each other down the street and other various competitive things to one up each other. Bulmaro was always very respectable of our house, and of me as a person. Every time he came over to my house he told his wife it was my birthday, after the summer, she imagined me to be 40-something years old!
It was a really unfortunate event that drew me and Bulmaro closer. He was changing out the fry grease, and accidentally stepped in it. 2nd degree burns in his leg were the result. Me and Edgar, another one of the cooks, took him to the hospital. He insisted we not call his wife, forever trying to be humble, he knew his wife was throwing a party for her brother who was leaving for Mexico the next day. The last thing he wanted was the attention to be on him, really! His brother who also worked with us knew better, and so he called his wife. She met us at the ER, and to that point Bulmaro was in pain, but kept it together. But when his kids came running in, he could not hold his emotions any longer. Perhaps what he feared the most, was that he did not know what this would mean to his family. At the time he had 2 daughters and 1 son. The daughters were elementary school age and took their cues from dad and started to cry. I comforted them by assuring them dad would be ok. Although I wasn't totally sure, if there was a way, Bulmaro would do whatever it took to get through this.
Edgar and myself were a bit upset to hear they wanted to transfer him to Parkland, insisting that this would be a workers comp case, so there was no need to send him to the county hospital. One of the nurses informed us, that Parkland's burn unit was the best in the world. Me and Edgar stayed up all night that first night, to be sure Bulmaro got settled in, and did not get lost or forgotten. He continually tried to tell us to go home, and that he didn't need us to be there. We knew that, but we wanted to be there. A few days later, Bulmaro joked with me about how I taught him English, citing how useful it was to talk with the nurses. I always told him he would need it to talk to his kid's teachers, but he used it the nurses first.
Since his burn, Bulmaro has cited his appreciation for what I did very often. He never forgets what I did for him. I can't talk about this situation without mentioning all of what my other co-workers did. We took up a collection and were able to buy him some magazines to read while laid up, and a rosary type cross that he insisted stay with him at times, even during the skin grapht they did.
I recently lost a bet to Bulmaro over the US/Mexico soccer game. When I went to his house to pay him, he immediately handed the money over to his older daughter. He had promised he would give her the money if he won. What a great dad! She was happy Mexico won, and that I paid the same day!
If I had to use one word that Bulmaro embodied to me it would have to be HUMILITY. Always kind and doing what he can, and never really wanting the applause for it. I hope I can be half the man and father Bulmaro is.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Work Family
I have worked in numerous restaurants and have always kinda had a connection to the kitchen staff. Being able to speak Spanish was a definite plus. I remember early on asking some of the cooks I worked with, how old they were, how many hours they worked, and being completely amazed that 18 or 19 year old guys were working 70 or 80 hours to help provide for their family here, and the family back in Mexico.
I grew closer to quite a few of the guys I worked with. One of which was Juan. He was old enough to be my dad, and never let me forget that. You see Juan was real big on respect. So much so that if I didn't greet him when I arrived at work, he would not speak to me. The thing was, the restaurant was a pizza place, and sometimes I would arrive as a delivery driver to a very busy place, and had to load up and go. But it made no difference to Juan, he wanted to shake your hand, and actually look you in the eye. I am not nearly as particular as Juan is about this, but I definitely try to take time each day that I work to greet those people I work with, whether they are a fellow server, or busboy, or cook.
Another great story about Juan involves a baptism celebration for someone close in his family. Once I arrived, his family treated me like royalty. Not allowing me to get up for anything, except to go the bathroom of course! As I mentioned I spoke Spanish, and one of the other party guests started to antagonize me a little. I didn't understand what he was telling me, and he thought that I was disrespecting me. The whole time as tensions grew I didn't know what would take place if things became violent, I was after all the only gringo there. Juan was circling our conversation, and stepped to the other gentleman, and let him know it was time for him to leave. He mentioned how I came with Juan, and that if he had a problem with me, he had a problem with Juan and all his family. Immediately after the gentleman left, almost his entire family came to apologize for his actions.
All in all, Juan taught me so much about respect and about treating people as people, and really getting to know them, and care for them. He was an immense blessing in my life. I hope maybe you may take a couple extra minutes each work day and greet those you work with, it can sometimes put a smile on your face on those days that work doesn't seem like fun at all...
I grew closer to quite a few of the guys I worked with. One of which was Juan. He was old enough to be my dad, and never let me forget that. You see Juan was real big on respect. So much so that if I didn't greet him when I arrived at work, he would not speak to me. The thing was, the restaurant was a pizza place, and sometimes I would arrive as a delivery driver to a very busy place, and had to load up and go. But it made no difference to Juan, he wanted to shake your hand, and actually look you in the eye. I am not nearly as particular as Juan is about this, but I definitely try to take time each day that I work to greet those people I work with, whether they are a fellow server, or busboy, or cook.
Another great story about Juan involves a baptism celebration for someone close in his family. Once I arrived, his family treated me like royalty. Not allowing me to get up for anything, except to go the bathroom of course! As I mentioned I spoke Spanish, and one of the other party guests started to antagonize me a little. I didn't understand what he was telling me, and he thought that I was disrespecting me. The whole time as tensions grew I didn't know what would take place if things became violent, I was after all the only gringo there. Juan was circling our conversation, and stepped to the other gentleman, and let him know it was time for him to leave. He mentioned how I came with Juan, and that if he had a problem with me, he had a problem with Juan and all his family. Immediately after the gentleman left, almost his entire family came to apologize for his actions.
All in all, Juan taught me so much about respect and about treating people as people, and really getting to know them, and care for them. He was an immense blessing in my life. I hope maybe you may take a couple extra minutes each work day and greet those you work with, it can sometimes put a smile on your face on those days that work doesn't seem like fun at all...
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Rada and Arthur
There was this elderly couple who used to come in every Wednesday. There are so many neat things and stories about them, so this post will just kinda be about them. They came in every Wednesday after Rada got her hair done. They were the type of regulars that would sit at the same table and order the same exact thing every single time they came in.
I remember the first time I waited on them, our cook knew exactly how to cook their food before I put it in. After talking with them on a regular basis I learned some interesting things. For one, as an older couple, I had always imagined they were together for 40 or 50 years, the best I can remember, they got married in their early 60's. I also remember seeing them leave one time, and even though Rada drove, Arthur walked her to driver side door and opened it for her. At his advanced age, he moved pretty slow, but still found it important to open her door! I remember complimenting Arthur's shirt one time (it was a real retro cowboy type shirt with the pearl snap buttons) and Rada quipped, "I bet you would look better in it" with a quick wit I am sure she was feisty in her younger days. Many servers and even managers would stop by and say hi every time they came in. Our General Manager would visit with them regularly. In fact Arthur was great at picking winners to big games, like the Super Bowl. He predicted the New York Giants would beat the New England Patriots 2 years ago, in fact he even said the score would be 17-14! Arthur was losing his hearing, so most of the time we would really chat with Rada, and she would relay the info to him by speaking louder.
I remember when I got the news that Rada had passed. The first person I thought of was Arthur. We got invited to the viewing and the funeral as a restaurant. I decided I would stop in at the viewing to pay my respects. It was an amazing thing to see that not only had I come from a restaurant, but another one of their regular servers was there. If the people who waited on me show up at my funeral, I believe that life to be an immense success. Surely friends and family show up to most funerals, but servers that waited on you? That's when I believe it's confirmed we lived in a way that was kind, loving, and caring. Arthur thanked me with and handshake and was moved to tears. It is something about when older people cry, that really pulls at my heart. All the pain and suffering that man faced, and to shed one tear to me, really meant something. We were generations apart, never really knew much about each other, but at that moment, we connected. So, we all wondered if Arthur would ever come in.
The other key thing was they shared one entree and split in on two plates. Who would eat the other half? He did make his way back up to resaurant a few weeks later, all by himself. I made sure to roll out the red carpet and see that he got great service. Weird chain of events that led to us losing power, and the lights kinda flickered on and off for a while. I had no other guests, so I sat and listened to Arthur. As I said before we mainly talked with Rada, so I really didn't know much about him. He proceeded to tell me stories. Like when he worked in the kitchen during his days in the service. Cracking eggs two at a time, he did the hand motion in case I didn't know how it would have looked. He cooked for thousands of service men. He told me about breaking his back, some 60 years ago. He spoke of family memories that brought tears to his eyes. All this while the lights are flickering on and off, most guests left, but not Arthur. It was like he absolutely had to tell me those stories. And I was just chomping at the bit, to hear stories from a man who had seen and experienced so much.
Another tidbit, Arthur used to always give the server a Sacajawea golden dollar as part of their tip. Sad to say, most servers saw it as an inconvenience. I regret not keeping the ones he gave me. Every time I see one of those dollar coins, I think of him. I found out through a co-worker that Arthur had died a few short months after Rada. I believe people can die from a broken heart. As servers, both in restaurants and to God, I feel like maybe we don't give the elderly their due love and attention, and that really breaks my heart. I hope ths post would put a smile on Rada and Arthur's face, cause they sure put a smile on my face.
I remember the first time I waited on them, our cook knew exactly how to cook their food before I put it in. After talking with them on a regular basis I learned some interesting things. For one, as an older couple, I had always imagined they were together for 40 or 50 years, the best I can remember, they got married in their early 60's. I also remember seeing them leave one time, and even though Rada drove, Arthur walked her to driver side door and opened it for her. At his advanced age, he moved pretty slow, but still found it important to open her door! I remember complimenting Arthur's shirt one time (it was a real retro cowboy type shirt with the pearl snap buttons) and Rada quipped, "I bet you would look better in it" with a quick wit I am sure she was feisty in her younger days. Many servers and even managers would stop by and say hi every time they came in. Our General Manager would visit with them regularly. In fact Arthur was great at picking winners to big games, like the Super Bowl. He predicted the New York Giants would beat the New England Patriots 2 years ago, in fact he even said the score would be 17-14! Arthur was losing his hearing, so most of the time we would really chat with Rada, and she would relay the info to him by speaking louder.
I remember when I got the news that Rada had passed. The first person I thought of was Arthur. We got invited to the viewing and the funeral as a restaurant. I decided I would stop in at the viewing to pay my respects. It was an amazing thing to see that not only had I come from a restaurant, but another one of their regular servers was there. If the people who waited on me show up at my funeral, I believe that life to be an immense success. Surely friends and family show up to most funerals, but servers that waited on you? That's when I believe it's confirmed we lived in a way that was kind, loving, and caring. Arthur thanked me with and handshake and was moved to tears. It is something about when older people cry, that really pulls at my heart. All the pain and suffering that man faced, and to shed one tear to me, really meant something. We were generations apart, never really knew much about each other, but at that moment, we connected. So, we all wondered if Arthur would ever come in.
The other key thing was they shared one entree and split in on two plates. Who would eat the other half? He did make his way back up to resaurant a few weeks later, all by himself. I made sure to roll out the red carpet and see that he got great service. Weird chain of events that led to us losing power, and the lights kinda flickered on and off for a while. I had no other guests, so I sat and listened to Arthur. As I said before we mainly talked with Rada, so I really didn't know much about him. He proceeded to tell me stories. Like when he worked in the kitchen during his days in the service. Cracking eggs two at a time, he did the hand motion in case I didn't know how it would have looked. He cooked for thousands of service men. He told me about breaking his back, some 60 years ago. He spoke of family memories that brought tears to his eyes. All this while the lights are flickering on and off, most guests left, but not Arthur. It was like he absolutely had to tell me those stories. And I was just chomping at the bit, to hear stories from a man who had seen and experienced so much.
Another tidbit, Arthur used to always give the server a Sacajawea golden dollar as part of their tip. Sad to say, most servers saw it as an inconvenience. I regret not keeping the ones he gave me. Every time I see one of those dollar coins, I think of him. I found out through a co-worker that Arthur had died a few short months after Rada. I believe people can die from a broken heart. As servers, both in restaurants and to God, I feel like maybe we don't give the elderly their due love and attention, and that really breaks my heart. I hope ths post would put a smile on Rada and Arthur's face, cause they sure put a smile on my face.
Friday, August 7, 2009
The Beginning...
I have often beat myself up for being in the restaraunt industry for as long as I have. Seeing as how I don't see my career choice in the industry, I never planned to spend the better part of a decade watiting tables and bartending. But here we are, 9 years after I waited my first table. Thinking back on it, I am bombarded with memories of co-workers who became some of my best friends, moments in my life that I will forever cherish, and of course a few really wild and crazy moments that you wouldn't believe unless you spent some time working in a resaraunt. But more than just being a server at work, my belief is that God calls us to serve. So this is really meant to share the lessons I have learned from Serving, both in and out of the restaraunt.
One of my favorite stories I share happen quite a few years ago. It was a busy Friday or Saturday night, I can't remember which one. I got a new table, a part of 6. There were 2 grandparent age folks, two parent age folks, and 2 younger kids. I greeted the table and waited on them as I would any other table. At that time, our restaraunt encouraged us to ask if there was a special occassion at each table. We would give them a free dessert and take a picture with a polaroid camera. During the course of the meal, I asked about a special occassion and the adults mentioned that it was family time, and the kids lit up talking about how they were spending time with grandma and grandpa. Having spent many weekends with my own grandparents, I recognized this as a special occassion and ordered the cheesecake, and even brought over the camera. The family was taken back, but joined in close around the dessert and smiled beautifully for the picture. When I presented the check to the family I dropped of a small picture holder that we gave with the pictures, on which I had written a small message about family time. As they exited the restaraunt, the grandma had the card with picture inside grasped closely to her. She moved a little slower, so was the last to leave. As she walked passsed my she mentioned again how much she appreciated the picture. I downplayed how big of a deal it was, to deflect praise. She leaned in close to me and told me her husband did not have long to live, that this visit was perhaps their last to see the grandkids. With tears now in both of eyes, I started to understand what the picture might mean, not just right then, but in the days or weeks ahead for her. A quick reminder that this happen in the middle of a busy night. I had to step out back to the dock where the dumpster is to get myself together. It's funny when things are put into perspective even the loudest restaraunt can seem completely quiet if the right thing is said to us. That's what it felt like when she told me that. I went on with my night, and at the end of the night counted my tips and normally would have been upset at the amount. However, my soul had been fed that night, and really the money was just secondary to me. This story reminds of a lesson I learned recently. Being kind doesn't cost us a whole lot normally. For the restaraunt it cost one picture and a small dessert. To have the keepsake of that night, it sure doesn't seem like too much.
One of my favorite stories I share happen quite a few years ago. It was a busy Friday or Saturday night, I can't remember which one. I got a new table, a part of 6. There were 2 grandparent age folks, two parent age folks, and 2 younger kids. I greeted the table and waited on them as I would any other table. At that time, our restaraunt encouraged us to ask if there was a special occassion at each table. We would give them a free dessert and take a picture with a polaroid camera. During the course of the meal, I asked about a special occassion and the adults mentioned that it was family time, and the kids lit up talking about how they were spending time with grandma and grandpa. Having spent many weekends with my own grandparents, I recognized this as a special occassion and ordered the cheesecake, and even brought over the camera. The family was taken back, but joined in close around the dessert and smiled beautifully for the picture. When I presented the check to the family I dropped of a small picture holder that we gave with the pictures, on which I had written a small message about family time. As they exited the restaraunt, the grandma had the card with picture inside grasped closely to her. She moved a little slower, so was the last to leave. As she walked passsed my she mentioned again how much she appreciated the picture. I downplayed how big of a deal it was, to deflect praise. She leaned in close to me and told me her husband did not have long to live, that this visit was perhaps their last to see the grandkids. With tears now in both of eyes, I started to understand what the picture might mean, not just right then, but in the days or weeks ahead for her. A quick reminder that this happen in the middle of a busy night. I had to step out back to the dock where the dumpster is to get myself together. It's funny when things are put into perspective even the loudest restaraunt can seem completely quiet if the right thing is said to us. That's what it felt like when she told me that. I went on with my night, and at the end of the night counted my tips and normally would have been upset at the amount. However, my soul had been fed that night, and really the money was just secondary to me. This story reminds of a lesson I learned recently. Being kind doesn't cost us a whole lot normally. For the restaraunt it cost one picture and a small dessert. To have the keepsake of that night, it sure doesn't seem like too much.
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