Humble Pizza

I find myself once again writing a blog after a several month hiatus. I guess I'm not writing as much because it's not assigned (encouraged) as part of a program, and no one back home who gave me money is reading it wondering about my well being, and daily happenings. But I do hope someone reads this. Otherwise it's a bit pointless for me to be writing on here.

Tonight I found myself humbled at where of all places but Pizza Hut, where I work as a waitress. Sunday nights are usually busy and I was dreading going into work, because Friday night was really busy, and while the tips tend to be better, I didn't want another night with that much stress. However, this was not the case, we had only a slow trickle of tables with a few handfuls of carryout orders over the supper hour. What I expected to be my last table was a young couple in their 20s with their 3-year-old son. They appeared to be the kind of people that don't eat out very often, and to make up for that they got just about everything you could want to eat at any one meal. They knew right away they wanted hot wings, and a little bit later cheese sticks. After several minutes of talking, laughing and perusing over the menu, they finally decided on their pizza, and trips to the salad bar. Their order was precise, they knew exactly what they wanted. I really appreciate when customers know what they want and don't have 20 billion questions, even after I've explained it to them. What caught me off guard was when I went over to the man at the salad bar to ask a question about their pizza, he asked if we had a trash can, because he had some cheese and bacon bits that had spilled on the salad bar and he didn't just want to leave them there. Most people just leave the salad bar messy. It usually looks like a bunch of 5-year-olds were left to it unsupervised. Normal civilized adults pay no mind to getting bacon bits in the potato salad, pudding in the peaches, tomatoes in the kidney beans, or eggs in the cheese. He very well could have just left it there for me to come and wipe up in a few minutes. When they left, they had stacked their plates, cups and silverware neatly, exactly how I would have so that I could take it to the dish pit in one trip. I really appreciated them as customers. My co-worker said that she used to work at the Pizza Hut in Marion (about 5 miles from Hillsboro) and so she knew exactly what I was having to do.

Everyone left by about 8, and so I started vacuuming and sweeping early so I wouldn't have to stay so long past closing time. It was going well, and I was preparing to roll silverware early. At about 9:20 a table of 5 walked in. The cook and I were annoyed, but we were still open for awhile, so it wasn't a huge deal. About 15 minutes later a table of 6 walked in. This was more annoying, but we couldn't turn them away. As soon as I had entered their order in the computer, a table of 7 walked in. As I was making their drinks, it turned into a table of 11. I couldn't exactly turn them away. By the time I got everyone their drinks and was asking for their order, it was 9:55. I told them we closed at 10. They started to panic a little, and I said they could still order, and someone piped up, "But eat real fast?" I said yup. All three tables were youth from an Old Order Mennonite church, possibly Holdeman. This particular branch of Mennonites has in the past and continues to baffle me. The women wear head coverings, and homemade dresses. The men appear to wear conservative clothing, but from any retail store. Tonight one of the guys was wearing a jacket from a popular expensive retail store, that is anything but conservative in their clothing styles. Most people had current cell phones, and from what I could see through dark windows drove nice cars. Any time I've waited on a group of this religion, something is always terribly funny. Tonight I could only assume it was happenings in youth group. I was surprised to hear some of the girls singing along to contemporary country radio being played over the sound system in the store. As I began to clean up the salad bar, I heard someone quoting and laughing about a popular song with some questionable lyrics that I NEVER would have expected to hear from one of their tables. When the largest table payed for their food, the girl handed me the signed credit card receipt, I gave her the customer copy and she returned back to the table. I stared at the receipt for awhile. She had written me a $25 tip, in addition to apologizing for coming in so late. I knew she hadn't written it by mistake because she had taken out her phone calculator to figure out the total amount. Before they left one of the guys said thank you for putting up with them. They stacked their plates a little bit awkwardly with silverware in between, but they tried. I was very humbled by their massive tip in an attempt to apologize for inconveniencing me. I'm sure I couldn't have been the best waitress. I had removed my apron and un-tucked my shirt before they came in, and I didn't bother to fix it after seating them and serving drinks. I'm sure my annoyance at their choice of arrival time was evident on my face. They were paying customers, so it's not as if their inconvenience was completely imposing.

Oi, it's after 2 am, I can only imagine how coherent this blog post actually sounds. I think I shall stop writing for now. I supposed the point of this blog post was to illustrate how waitressing is a humbling experience. Oh I must tell you stories of my co-workers sometime. But now my bed is calling my name. Good night dear reader(s? oh that would be oh so nice!).

Becca