A Tale of Two Calamities

I've been meaning to write about my adventures on the Cape, but nothing had specifically motivated me until last night. I was on my way to my monthly book club meeting at the library, and I needed to grab a quick dinner. Steve was at a post-doc conference so I was flying solo. I had driven by Friendly's restaurant many times, but Steve doesn't really like fast food, so we never stopped. I assumed it was a counter-order kind of chain that served mostly ice cream, like a Dairy Queen. I saw an ad on television for a hamburger they were selling with two grilled cheese sandwiches serving as the bun. I admit I was intrigued, though I would rather skip the burger and have two grilled cheese sandwiches.

I stepped in and was surprised to find that Friendly's is a sit-down restaurant. "For one?" the host inquired as came through the door. "Uh, sure." I replied. I was immediately glad that I had my book. I always find eating alone at a sit-down restaurant to be awkward without something to focus on. Otherwise, I find myself people watching and that makes people uncomfortable when they are eating. I was seated in a booth near 2 other women eating alone. Apparently, I had been relegated to Cootie Town with the other rejects eating by themselves. I had no idea what to order, but the waitress came almost immediately and asked what I wanted. I asked her what she likes and she recommended a chicken sandwich, so I ordered it. I read until my food came, and then happily enjoyed my calorie-rich saucy meal.

Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I saw something come splashing toward me. The sight I beheld when I looked up was surprising and comical. A waitress stood wide-eyed, her right arm covered in milkshake and her left hand holding an empty serving tray. The floor was a ruins of chicken nugget tombstones covered in barbecued gore. There was a rainbow of sauces surrounding the booth. Ketchup covered the woman sitting at the booth and her two spattered children gleefully giggled. The milkshake had splashed onto the adjacent booth and into the hair of a customer there. I couldn't see the table, but I imagined that it was a chunky soup of drink glasses, burgers and ice cream. The waitress had leaned over to hand the girl at the table her dinner and lost her balance. The full tray had fallen onto the table and comedy ensued.

The silence immediately following the event was palpable. All heads turned toward the ketchup-dipped mother and the milkshake showered neighbor to see if they would shrug,...or explode. Their reactions were the most impressive display of tolerance and humanity that I've seen in a long time. They both started to laugh. Not a derisive, ugly laugh. But, a warm, forgiving laugh. One joked, "That is what washing machines are for!" as she dabbed her shirt with a paper napkin. The other snickered and made some goodhearted comment about hair products while she wiped milkshake off of her head. The waitress had run into the kitchen, tears of shame and fear starting to appear in her eyes. The manager arrived with cleaning supplies and apologized profusely, promising free meals and stern repercussions for the waitress. The mother said thank you but reassured that it was only an accident and to tell the waitress that it is ok, and no big deal. When the embarrassed waitress returned, the boy at the table thanked her for the awesome display of jettisoned milkshake. His mother quietly chided him for embarrassing the girl, but his intention was pure. He was trying to make her feel better.

I was so surprised to see such kindness in response to a very inconvenient and frustrating situation. I almost got a little choked up. Then, I wondered why I was so surprised. Had I become so jaded by incessant displays of selfishness that any show of compassion could move me to tears? Then, I recalled another recent time when I had seen that shell-shocked expression that the waitress held.

I had ordered a Philly Cheese Steak sandwich from my favorite Costa Mesa sandwich shop, and I popped in next door to buy a drink at the 7-11. I was standing before the collection of flavored nozzles at the soda dispenser trying to decide what to choose. Then, I heard an explosive burst of turbulent liquid coming from my right. When I turned, there was a very surprised child (about 11) standing frozen with his hand still on the handle, covered from head to toe in red slurpee. He carried a memorable expression of shock and fear. The slurpee had not just soaked him, but had splashed the man standing behind him and even spattered me from about 6 feet away. The major difference between these scenarios was the reactions of the participants. The man was wearing an expensive looking white polo shirt and white shorts. He had dyed spikey hair and was wearing Oakleys on his forehead. I could tell instantly that he had money.

"Oh my god!" the man shouted. "Are you kidding me???" he bellowed. "I just got these dry-cleaned! We have to be somewhere in 5 minutes!" Soon, his face was as red as the slurpee stains on his clothes. He stamped and screamed about refunds and payment for damages. Meanwhile, the kid stood very still and stared at him, like a puppy expecting to be hit. I couldn't help myself. I walked up to the kid, ignoring the tantrum that was probably his father. I said, "Hey, this was not your fault. It was the machine. Don't worry about it." What surprised me was that the dad didn't seem upset with the kid. He was ready to sue the 7-11 to pay for his dry-cleaning for the next 3 years, but he didn't throw any of the anger at the boy. That was at least something. He was still carrying on after I had paid and left.

These two scenarios left me reflecting on what the kids involved were learning. The poor kid at 7-11 learned that accidents should make us angry and eager to throw blame. That we should threaten to sue, yell and scream like a toddler, and ruin our Sunday out with our family. That a dry-cleaning bill is worth rising your blood pressure over, and frightening the hell out of a child who just wanted a slurpee. On the other hand, the children at the restaurant learned compassion and tolerance. They learned to forgive the person who made a mistake and genuinely felt sad and upset about it. They learned that kindness is the first reaction, and finding humor in life's unexpected puddles makes for an enjoyable and entertaining evening out with the family. Maybe that is what made me feel sentimental. Not the lucky waitress and her forgiven error, but the pitiful slurpee kid, and what he will take away from his unfortunate scenario. What are the chances that both parties at the restaurant would respond so graciously and not be like that asshole at the 7-11? I hope they are pretty good, and I left with a heightened hope for humanity. The irony is that I found this renewal of the human spirit at a "Friendly's".