I had been shopping during the afternoon and was about to join a few friends for an evening meal. I found a parking space that was only about a block from the restaurant. For some reason, there were a great many more people than usual in the area and parking, which is always at a premium, was even more scarce than expected.
This was an evening meal on a Saturday night which has become a monthly gathering. It was originated by one of the other group members and we have all come to enjoy it. A chance to get dressed, have a good meal, and spend some time with friends.
We always meet at the same restaurant where the food is good and the atmosphere is welcoming. However, I have missed the prior couple of months’ gatherings due to other obligations, so, I was looking forward to this month’s meal.
It turns out that my absence was more significant than I realized.
As I walked toward the restaurant, I was contemplating the fact that I was about 10 minutes early. For me, this is totally out of character. I’m rarely early. More to the point, I’m often a little bit late. I can point to traffic issues or to home departure delays or to surprise road construction obstructions and each of those have been a major cause at one time or another. But, the truth is that I could probably leave earlier in anticipation of delays and I don’t. (Call it a character flaw.) This time, I was actually early and I didn’t know how to handle it.
I entered the restaurant and quickly peered around a room divider hoping that I would see one or more of the others who might have arrived early, too. Nope. Miracle of miracles. I had arrived first.
“Would you like to be seated and wait for the rest of your party?” I turned to see the hostess looking at me and smiling warmly. “I’m not sure how many will be joining us, this evening. So, I think I had best wait for a few minutes before deciding where to sit”, I answered.
Now, I felt the minor discomfort that I suspect many women feel when they’ve arrived ahead of their date or their friends. (In this restaurant, there is no bench or seat where one can wait.) Do I stand near the doorway where each person entering will look me over and wonder why I’m standing there? Do I sit at the bar, even though I don’t want to order a drink? Or, do I go ahead and let the hostess seat me?
As I stood there considering the options, one of the waiters (a man whom I’ve seen there on prior occasions and who has probably waited on our group in the past) came up to me and said “I haven’t seen you for quite some time. How have you been? Are you OK?”
I was caught totally off guard. His sincerity was obvious and the warmth with which he said it had me “non-plussed.” Is this how other women feel when they’ve been complimented? (And, to have been "missed" definitely qualified as a compliment, in my mind.)
“Some tough times have had me preoccupied”, I answered. “But, I always look forward to coming here for dinner.”
In a noticeably gentle tone he said, “Well, as soon as you’re ready, let me know and I’ll seat you.” Then, he turned quickly and resumed his other activities.
I’m sure I was blushing. And, it felt great!
I normally go about my tasks and errands intending to blend in with the others who are out in the world. I don’t feel that I am particularly memorable; certainly, not enough that anyone would recall having seen me before. Add to that the fact that wait-staff see multitudes of people while doing their work and mine is only one face in that crowd. So, to have been "missed" was, at once, surprising and more than a little flattering.
A few moments later, the others arrived and we were seated by a different waiter. Yet, the first waiter remained attentive to our meal and service. While he was doing so, I made it a point to thank him for his kind comment (which resulted in quizzical looks from my table mates) and, of course, to leave an appropriate tip. I also examined the check to read and make note of his name for future reference.
Now, some days later, I’m still enjoying that moment. I wonder if he realizes how much impact he has on those he greets or serves in his work.
If you don't like the way I'm livin', you just leave this long haired country girl alone:
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