Reliving the Moment

The art of waitressing is a delicate balance - a dance (if you will) to the same music with a room of partners, each expecting your dance to be personalised, and tailored to them; while they interchange continuously. 

Some nights you step on toes, you forget your steps entirely; and the whole night feels like your first school disco - clumsy and awkward, and you can't wait for it to be over. 

There are other nights though, where your evening is a '10' - your moves mirror your partners', you have a great rapport with each of your partners, interchanging smoothly and you wish it all to last that bit longer; leaving the evening on a high.

One particular night though, I thought I had danced a 10 with the room under my service; when on cashing up my boss asked to speak to me privately in the kitchen. Even on my way there I was imagining which table/ guest it was that had praised my work this highly that she felt it necessary to remove me from the others.... And then.... It came.

A big reason why the evening and gone as smoothly for me as it did was that most of my tables were regulars, not only to the restaurant, but also of mine; with the exception of one- they were a fairly large table, and at the head, a well known PR figure- not only locally but nationally; and someone I really admired, and wanted to like me. Her feedback of me to my boss however was polar opposite. 

The highlights of the seeming essay was that I was loud, cocky and thought I was much funnier than I was. I sobbed there, and all the way home. 

It came out if left field for me, and even years later, I still find myself trying to remember details of the service to understand her impression/ clues she gave me that she was unhappy and more- how I would ever show her that wasn't who I am. 

Even now in moments where I  feel most confident  I remind myself of that night and reel it in. By contrast, she probably forgot my face and name a day or two after that evening and I will never ever forget hers.