Thursday, October 27, 2016

Sally, Mimi, Rosie, iced tea, the bee, and me

Armed with a $5.00 coupon Sally and I went for lunch at Mimi’s restaurant. Our server, whose name I didn’t get, I named “Rosie” in my mind. She was wearing one of those headscarves that we see in the famous poster of World War II's Rosie the Riveter.

“My” Rosie, the young server, was right out of her teens, bright and cute. She had a lot of work; her station was very busy, but despite that she was attentive and fast-moving.

It was not one of my better days. My arthritic fingers were stiff and I dropped my iced tea glass; tea and ice went all over the table. Sally and I were mopping it up with napkins when Rosie saw it. She rushed over with a fistful of napkins. She got the mess cleaned up amidst our many thank yous, and brought me another iced tea.

Later, Rosie apologized for forgetting one of the perks of Mimi’s, fresh-baked bread and a couple of madeline pastries for Sally, and when she realized her error she made it right immediately.

When we were done Rosie brought the bill. I slipped my credit card in the holder, and Sally and I figured the tip, which I wrote in when Rosie brought my credit card and receipt back.

At that moment Sally spotted a bee crawling around our booth. It was lethargic, and she said, “It looks like it could be at the end of its life span.” (A quick check online tells me a worker bee lives about five to seven weeks.) She put a napkin over the bee. Rather than have Rosie pick it up, I took the bee, napkin and all, into the restroom and sent it into the county sewer system. Thank you for providing honey and pollinating our flowers, Mr Worker Bee...and here is your reward! **FLUSH**

Apparently the bee was enough of a distraction that Sally and I forgot something important. We got to our car and were ready to leave the parking lot when Rosie, running full out, caught up to us and gave us back the credit card and receipt. Sally opened the car door and shook her hand.

I wondered if she went back into the restaurant and said something to her coworkers like, “Huh! Old people!” or “I think that old man might have been drunk.” (I don’t drink. I was just clumsy and forgetful. Hey, Rosie, stuff happens!)

As we were driving away Sally read a flyer Rosie had handed to us earlier. “You can get a free entree on Veteran’s Day!” she said. So we have plans to go back in November. Maybe we’ll have Rosie as our server again. I will wear my gloves with little rubber knobs on the fingers to keep a slippery glass from sliding out of my hand, and both Sally and I will be paying attention to the credit card. I will even put an extra couple of bucks on the tab, as thanks to Rosie for watching out for us seniors.

Before we went to lunch we went to a Hallmark store to pick up a card. When I paid for it I used cash, and the clerk gave me back three quarters in change. I looked at the quarters and said, "I think this is a Canadian quarter," then took another look. Oops. I said, “I thought that was Queen Elizabeth, but it's good ol' George Washington, instead.” My eyes were playing tricks on me. 

She said, “Oh well, you know in those days they wore their hair...” and stopped in mid-sentence when I turned to leave and she saw my ponytail.



DEMiller said...

It's always embarrassing when you screw-up at a restaurant. Just remember that the server has been through it all many times with others. I know because I have been in the business over 40 years and seen it all. When a customer makes a mess I usually tell them it wasn't anything and that I have made worse ones than that.

Eddie said...

Enjoyable Read! I enjoyed that.

Postino said...

Thanks, Eddie.

Postino said...

Dave, I am more self-conscious now about my hands so I try to tighten my grip when picking up glasses slippery from moisture. I had a mental lapse that time.

I personalized the story by imagining what the server thought. It was just part of storytelling. I'm sure she went back in and had five or six things happening all at once like servers do in busy restaurants.

Just be glad I don't work with you. If I had your job there'd be glasses falling off my tray or slipping out of my fingers when I brought them to a table.

DEMiller said...

Sorry to hear about your hand troubles. You have mentioned it before, but I guess it is worse then I knew. No fun getting old.