The Lady at Table 45

I see now that this has become a blog mostly about work-related incidents, about which I refuse to complain. Instead, I embrace it. I'm glad this survival job has allowed me to tell so many different stories about the strange and marvelous humans that walk the Earth with me. Now, wasn't that dramatic?

A few nights ago, I was treading my section in the restaurant on two very sore feet. I couldn't help but seethe about the couple I'm waited on earlier that evening: a young man and his young date, old enough to drink vodka-and-sodas but immature enough to give me a decent tip. It was his birthday, which I'd found out when I carded them. I'm a softie when it comes to birthdays---who doesn't love something free on their birthday?---and especially when it comes to twenty-somethings' birthdays. I'm pretty broke. I assume most twenty-somethings are pretty broke, as well. If I were to take my broke self out with my broke friend out to an expensive dinner and the waitress gave us something for free, I'd be over the moon! This was what I set out to do when I comp'ed their $14 appetizer: make them happy, happy, happy people.

Instead, when I presented the check and my my huge smile, they didn't seem moved in the slightest. "The appetizer was on me tonight!" I exclaimed. The dude nodded and said, "Thanks. Could you take a picture of us?"

Well, happy birthday to you. And they left me a 12% tip. After I gave them something for free. Dickwads.

Anyway, I was pissed and mopey and my feet hurt and I'd kill a man to sit down when I noticed the fifty-something, frizzy haired, bespectacled woman now sitting at my table 45. She had a cocktail in front of her, which meant she probably had come from the bar. She was plinking away on her Blackberry and barely noticed as I approached the table.

"Hello!" I greeted her.

She looked up, smiling. She had a kind face. I wondered why she was dining alone. Immediately, I asked myself silently, Is she married?

She knew exactly what she wanted. "I'll start out with a small salad, garlic dressing on the side. Then I'll have the cheeseburger, medium. Thank you!"

I smiled through gritted teeth as I took away her menu and thanked her. Walking away, I cursed the gods. Gods, I addressed them, if you're going to give me a one-top, can you at least give me a one-top who orders the $44 New York Strip Steak and drinks like a fish?

The gods must've heard. "Oh, wait!" the lady at table 45 called to me. I returned to her table, and she rested a hand on my arm. "I'll have another Casper after all. I'll just take two ice cubes. My teeth are so sensitive. I can't handle the cold!"

I chuckled. "No problem!" All right, at least she's a fishlike drinker.

Over the course of the evening, I checked back in with the lady at table 45. She seemed very sweet and bumbly. She praised the garlic dressing, asking for more and more of it. She fawned over the cheeseburger, claiming it was the best burger she'd ever had. She ordered Casper after Casper, two ice cubes only. Every time I swung by her table, she was cheerful as a toddler, having the time of her life at the one of the smallest tables in the restaurant, enjoying one of the simplest meals off the menu.

After I'd cleared her dishes and left her with a clean table and a near-empty highball glass with two melting ice cubes inside of it, I offered her dessert.

"Oh, I do love the key lime pie!" she exclaimed.

"Totally," I agreed, "I love it, too. Shall I order you a slice?"

She shook her head. "Sadly, I'm allergic to nuts."

"A tragedy!" I replied. "All of our desserts have nuts! Can I offer you a scoop of ice cream?"

She pointed to her teeth. "Too sensitive," she reminded me. "My poor teeth can't handle it! I'll tell you what. I'll have one more drink, please. And that'll be my dessert."

"Absolutely," I smiled at her and began to walk away from the table when she stopped me.

"Kim," she said in her soft, heartfelt voice, "thank you so much for a wonderful evening. You've really changed my mind about this place. I used to come here all the time, but then I stopped. I don't know why, I was just sort of over it. This is the first time I've come here in about a year. I work around the corner. And I must say, I have you to thank. You've given me a wonderful evening, and I'm looking forward to coming back."

I was stunned. And touched. I couldn't think of anything else to say except, "Thank you so much!" So I said that.

As I walked back to the wait station to re-ring her Casper, I couldn't help but feel very happy about the compliment she'd paid me, and how I'd made a difference in not only her night, but her attitude about the restaurant. I felt proud, but at the same time I felt limp. My dad always used to say, "There are some things you should be glad you're not that good at doing." It's weird to know that you're a good waitress.

After the lady at table 45 paid the bill, I took one last visit to her table to pick up the credit card slip and bid her goodnight. She was such a sweet woman, and I was moved by how great of a night she'd had with a cheeseburger and her Blackberry. I reached down and picked up the signed copy of the check. "It was lovely getting to know you," I said. "I hope to see you again soon!"

"I hope to see you soon, too!" she replied. "Thank you."

I smiled at her one last time, and walked away. As I slipped the signed copy off of the check presenter, two crisp $20 bills fell off, too. I stopped in my tracks and counted. Two $20 bills. I looked at the check. The bill was only $70 in total! And she tipped me $40 in cash? I was so affected, I couldn't even move. This one lady, this lady who only ate a salad and a cheeseburger, gave me the largest tip of my life. I almost started crying. It was one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me. It was right behind the first time a boy told me that he loved me.

I turned around and caught her before she left. I addressed her by name, which I remembered from swiping her credit card. "I really must thank you again for your generosity," I said to her. "Thank you. I'm really quite moved. Thank you."

She smiled at me and said, "Thank you. You know, people think that going out to eat is just getting food and getting drinks, but it's not. It's about the experience, and you gave me a great one tonight. I'll be back. Thank you."

And as we smiled at each other and hailed one another with mutual appreciation and affection, we parted ways. She waved goodbye to me and stepped back outside, and I headed into the kitchen, my arms full of dirty plates but my insides full of certainty that kind, wonderful people exist in this world.