Oh dear. The young well-meaning waitress brought me a glass of Cabernet wine instead of Chardonnay. Normally I would have clutched my throat and made dying of thirst motions—just kidding—Normally I would have sweetly asked her to take it back and make an exchange, but there was more to this story.
To avoid the St. Patrick’s Day shenanigans, my husband and I decided to have dinner out on Friday night. (Date Night! Yea!) We went to a family-owned restaurant about twenty miles from our home because we like the owners. Upon arriving the female owner asked for a favor. “I have a new waitress starting and she’s a bit nervous. If there were ever two customers that would be kind to her it is you guys. Would you mind if I sat you in her section?” I laughed wickedly, but my husband agreed we would be on our best behavior. Brown noser.
The waitress arrived with a big smile and bright eyes. She was sincere, trying hard, and obviously nervous. We ordered drinks as we browsed the menu, and that is when the red wine showed up. I seriously thought of drinking it and saying nothing, but of all the reds, Cabernet is my least liked. My husband patted my hand and said, “I’ve got this.”
When the waitress came back to take our order my husband looked at her with great concern. “It appears the bartender made a mistake on my wife’s wine. I know you can fix this for us.” (Big fat charming smile followed on my husband’s face.) The young woman furrowed her brow and quickly admitted it was her mistake, which I thought showed great character in today’s finger-pointing world. Throughout our meal there were other bobbles on her part and we did our best to bolster her confidence along. Really, she was trying so hard. What more could we ask?
As we were leaving we bumped into the female owner. I touched her on the shoulder and said, “We only left small scars on her psyche.” The owner laughed and said, “Good! We all need scars if we’re going to learn and grow.” Amen sister!
Although the experience was last night, I’ve pondered on it throughout the day. I’m not sure if I’m more pleased that we were asked to be a part of the young woman’s training, or if I’m happy to have witnessed a genuinely caring young worker in an apathy-laden culture. Either way, it was the best part of my day.