The Grumpy Waitress Versus The Eccentric Old Ladies

For the monthly meetings of the “eccentric old ladies” chapter I’m in, the reservations are always made well in advance so the restaurant management and staff are aware of our group size and time requirement. We always ask for two and a half hours, but we usually wrap up short of that and make it a point to not run over. If the request can’t be honored, the hostess will choose another venue that can accommodate us. We are not often so many that one server can’t usually take care of us, we are not particularly demanding, and it’s an unwritten rule that we always tip generously — several of us were servers during our working years. Although we sometimes have as many as fifteen or sixteen, there were only eight or nine members in attendance at this event.

I was attending a luncheon meeting at a casual restaurant. The group often participates in a fun activity at the beginning or end of our business meeting and meal and, on this day, the activity was first, and it required each participant to contribute three $1 bills for a game in which one person would win the pot in the end. The hostess failed to mention this when the meeting details were emailed to everyone, so I didn’t come prepared and needed change for the smallest bill I had: a twenty. None of the others could break it, so I asked the waitress if it would be possible for her to do so; I specifically asked if I could get five ones, a five, and a ten in exchange. She sighed audibly and agreed she could.

The waitress came back a few minutes later with my change, all singles.

Waitress: *Bluntly* “That’s almost all the ones I had.”

Me: “Thank you. I only asked for five ones. I can trade back the other fifteen if you want.”

Waitress: “No, no, I’ve already gone to the trouble. And I only heard that you needed ones.”

I would have written IOUs to pay the hostess later or sat out of the game if I’d known it was such a bother.

The demeanor of the server didn’t really improve. She made it obvious through mumbled and offhand comments that she didn’t really want to be waiting on our table — maybe because, as we do, we asked for separate checks? — but because we had been seated “in her area,” she wasn’t given a choice. Despite her attitude, she did a fair job, kept our drinks filled, and made sure everyone correctly received what they’d ordered and that it was satisfactory — and it was. We collectively decided she was just having a bad day, for whatever reason.

At the end of the meal, we all individually tipped our usual twenty-plus percent on our bills. When our meeting concluded, the wonderful, caring woman who had won the pot left the entire amount — all ones, remember — as an additional gratuity with a lovely note to the waitress thanking her for taking care of us and hoping that whatever was bothering her would be quickly resolved in her favor. We didn’t stick around to see her reaction when she found that, but I do hope we were able to brighten her day, even a little, in the end.