Pay Attention

Suffice to say I devoured the juicy, dripping Swiss cheese burger. It was the last, and certainly most painful moment in the cycle of cow to pasture. My buddy's lamb gyro fell apart within seconds of aiming it at his mouth. A saucy piece of lamb tumbled onto his suit. We were having an early dinner at Cap City Brewery with a full crowd of the usual: Hill staffers yukking it up, non-profit interns splurging on a cold night when pasta won’t do; and tourists fascinated by the copper cauldron’s of beer and all the colored people. Between chunks of burger and sips of Sprite, I watched closely the people keeping us all happy, the wait staff. Women, men, blond brunette, short, tall, black, while, straight, and “trying not to show how too fabulous I am for this place—learn it!”

As often happens, we close enough to the grill to get duck grease stains, and so close to the stand with the punch-in-your-order machine. Every few moments, a long line of waiters would form as they waited to punch in orders of spinach and artichoke dip and fries, ex-out the crab cake somebody didn’t want, and so on. Tuptuptup. Shuuuush the receipt slides out of the printer. Rip, the waiter grabs it and steps off to the floor. They completed this motion in almost complete silence.

Oddly silent, I thought. Queer guy looked stoic—“What the f*ck am I doing here?”—blondie, pretty chill, and our waitress, the sista, patiently formulaic. Her thoughts were less easy to read. Maybe she was holding on to her orders—“Two burgers, one shake, one Coke, hurry up please, what’s my code?, remember the extra ketchup for” the she steps up to tuptuptup machine, grabs a black pleather sleeve and next move on. She learned and executed the skills she need to take care of customers, handle the receipt and collect a tip.

The ketchup was for our table, and she brought it within moments, her face just a shade away from blank. Clearly her mind was elsewhere, but still needed to appear as if it were right her at our booth.

My burger was really good, and I told her as she approached. In that moment, I thought "why would she care?" and in the same moment she reviewed manual in her head and smiled pleasantly, appropriately. Slightly genuinely. Next.