Serving Self Worth

I brought the food out as quickly as my feet would carry me. I smiled as naturally as possible.

"Is there anything else I can get you two ladies?" I asked gingerly.

"Looks fine, thanks," they responded nonchalantly

I rushed to table number ten to take there order as they took turns staring me down.

“Did you have a chance to make your decisions?” I asked.

“Yes, I would like the Dover special with the Caesar salad. And I will have another class of sabignon blanc 2008.” She said flatly.

“And you sir?”

“I would like the steak frites, with the red sauce, medium done, thank you. And I will take another glass of your petolesseblu.” He quickly added.

I race to the bar pore the only white 2008 we have, assuming that is the one she wanted. I attempted to decipher his choice of wine and poured the only red that started with a “P”.

“Coming.” I shout to the kitchen.

Caesar is up and more people enter the restaurant. Is it my fault people have to wait the extra 30 seconds longer than their patience is willing? Should I beat myself up that I can not speak peoples’ attempt-at-French language? Does the chef (owner of the restaurant) see that I am trying or does she see failure at its best?

I walk the half mile to my car because I want to follow the laws and be polite to my customers. Do not want a ticket and want to give customers adequate space to park, so they don’t have to walk in with tired feet.

I pick up the empty starbucks cup en route to my car to compensate for my lack of superior customer service. I wish I didn’t feel like other people are critiquing me. Isn’t God only allowed to make judgment? If only I were my own boss and my intention were to be just that, incompetent at its best!