I offer the following true story with the hope that no matter how crappy your day is, you’ll find comfort in knowing someone had a worse one.
I co-own two restaurants in my local area. One is a block from where I live, so I eat there at least once a week. The other day I went in for dinner with my family. Our server was new on the job so I introduced myself and tried to make him feel at ease. Waiting on an owner is a tough assignment for a new employee. I don’t think he was too happy about getting that short straw.
Compounding matters is that I’m also “the Dilbert cartoonist.” That sometimes makes people anxious around me, especially young people. Now we have the perfect storm: New employee + youth + owner of the restaurant + minor celebrity.
I joked with him that it’s a tradition for the new guy to spill a drink on me. It’s true. There’s a high correlation between my presence in the restaurant and massive spillage, a large percentage of which ends up on my lap. I figured it was sporting to let our new server know his odds.
Despite the pressure, our server did fine, although I don’t think he exhaled until we left.
A few days later I came back in with the family. Same server. Same table. This time, not so lucky.
It’s a funny moment when you see a server lose his balance with a tray full of beverages. I’ve viewed this scene often, usually at close range. At some point the best he can do is try and guide it to the place it will do the least damage. Somehow, amazingly, our young server managed to dump four tall glasses of liquids on our wood table and not get a drop on me. That’s because most of it went in my new wife’s lap.
It was that moment when I realized another benefit of marriage: With any luck, Shelly will absorb at least half of the future spills. This deal just keeps getting better for me.
Our server said, “I’m sorry!” about 500 times in the next sixty seconds. Shelly wasn’t bothered. I warned her a long time ago that being with me means having beverages dumped on you. It’s just part of the package. We laughed it off and left a big tip.
I felt sorry for our server. I hope he drinks. I don’t know how many shots of tequila it takes to get that sort of work day out of your mind, but I’m thinking seven.
Expect your day to be better than that.