Today at work, everyone was suggesting what they would do if this really was their last 24 hours to live. "I'd spend the entire day in just my underwear." "I'd quit my job." "I'd max out all my credit cards."
I didn't realize until later that this question was being asked because a pastor somewhere out there has decided that, according to the bible, there will be an earthquake tomorrow morning at 6am Eastern time that will end the world. Hm.
After I discovered this, I went back to work for the dinner shift. My first table was an absolute joy! It was a Mom, Dad, and son (who was probably around 9 years old). The son kept going on and on about the end of the world, and I was cracking up. He said that they came to Olive Garden because it's their favorite and they wanted to go big for their last meal of their lives. At one point in the meal, I told them I was in training, and we had the following conversation:
Me: "This is actually my first dinner shift. Ever."
Woman: "You're brand new? Well you're doing pretty well considering it's your first day!"
Son: "And your last..."
HAHA!
It was so funny. And I told them I would blog about it, so here I am...blogging about it. At the end of the meal they decided to let me know that they actually wouldn't be paying, what with it being the end of the world and such. They were just such a great table. It's people like that who make being a waitress bearable. I hope they come back sometime and request me, because I would enjoy serving them again. I love the tables that turn into wonderful friendships after such a short period of time. I feel like I've really effected someone for the better, rather than just politely insisting that they empty their wallets and fill their stomachs with the same amount of food portioned to feed a rhinoceros. I promise, folks. Feeling that kind of guilt is noooo fun.
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