Last night Earl and I went to dinner at one of my favorite local restaurants, Grande Mere Inn. I must say it has a lot of things going against it; but, in the end, I still like the place. Why? Because I love the bread. Because I love the view. Because I love the atmosphere. And the service. And the price.
What don’t I love? I don’t love that the tables are close together and that conversation on a busy night fights with acoustics. I don’t love that it’s a small place to entertain large groups, and large groups seem to gravitate there. I don’t love that on some summer nights golfers end up there after having a variety of beers during the earlier hours. They think they own the place.
But last night was most enjoyable. Our server’s name was Cindy, and it was clear she’d been around the waitressing block. Following her in tow was new employee, Courtney, who probably hadn’t even reached the corner. Maybe this was her first night; it was surely no more than her second.
What tickled us most was when she came and removed our salad dishes, exclaiming, “These are the first salad dishes I’ve been authorized to remove.” Didn’t that make us feel special?
We watched Courtney as she shadowed Cindy from table to table, her hands clasped behind her back, taking it all in. From time to time, she filled water glasses and removed plates from other tables. In the couple hours we were there, I saw progress.
So I’d bet money that Courtney will turn out all right. By our next visit, she’ll be on her own and maybe she’ll remember us as her first salad removal customers.
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