Degree of Difficulty

Honestly, I have no idea what is going on in other people’s lives. So, I tread lightly especially when dealing with those in the service industry. Plus, having the experience of working in retail and various restaurants, there is a level of empathy when I am the customer. Treating those who are being of service to me with kindness is key, but there are moments when that is tested.

Bryce came home for the weekend. He had ordered a suit for his cousin’s upcoming wedding, and it was in, so we ventured out for his final fitting. I had made reservations at a nearby restaurant for dinner and once we finished at the clothing store, we made our way there. We were greeted and then told to stand over near a sign where we would be seated. The system was weird to say the least and another hostess seemed confused as to what happens next. At long last, we were seated and then acknowledged by our waiter. He seemed pleasant and promptly took our drink order. I ordered an adult beverage and he commented, “So, Mom gets to drink tonight”, which I thought was odd, but he wasn’t wrong.

Excellent service, in my spouse’s eyes, resides in his glass never being empty. He has a drinking problem. Yes, he is a recovering alcoholic, but it goes further. My husband can suck down a 16 ounce glass of tea in one gulp and is annoyed if his beverage isn’t replaced immediately. Truly unrealistic expectations on his part. In his eyes, that is already affecting the tip.

Our dinner came, but my spouse was missing his salad. Finally, his wedge appeared – it was suppose to come before the entree – and our server apologized saying, “They tried to put ranch on this, so I had to get a new salad”. Okay, so, my salad knowledge entails that wedge salads are served with blue cheese dressing unless otherwise specified. I shrugged it off and resumed eating my meal.

The boys wanted dessert, so they ordered that and we waited. And waited. And waited. When their sweet concoctions arrived, he said that he had to add the Oreo to the ice cream. Umm….pretty sure that the ice cream was already made with the cookies in it.

So, the service was less than stellar, but I am always a 15 percent tipper. That is my bare minimum because I know that you don’t make jack shit otherwise. Most of the time, I tip 20 or 25 percent. I nixed Brian’s suggestion of a tip of 10 percent because his whole experience is warranted on whether he has a constant liquid flow. Honestly, he would only be happy if there was an IV constantly feeding him his beverage.

The moral of the story is to accept everyone for where they are. I don’t know that waiter’s story, but I do know he was doing the best he could. That’s all any of us can do.

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