Rainy Days and Mondays

Mondays. A rainy Monday at that.

Yesterday, however, we had a steady stream of conventioneers, tourists, and regulars. I marveled at how easy it is to meet and greet 300 covers when they space themselves out in 3- to 5-minute increments. (Visit my foyer at noon on a Friday–like multiple buses letting all the famished off at once.)

The quasi-quiet day allowed me to chat with one of the tourist regulars–the ones in town for a week who make our restaurant their own while they’re here.

He must be 85 or older, and has previously been in only with his daughter. He always stops to chat on his way in and when leaving, oblivious to the bustling action at the podium. His daughter only lets this go on for a sentence or two before she resorts to,”Come on Dad, we have to go now.”

I get this, because I have elderly relatives. But still, he’s so nice!

This Monday he came in with his wife and daughter. Per usual, he stopped on the way in, this time asking if they could get the same “Chinese girl” for their server, the one he gave a two dollar bill to the other day because “she’d never seen one before!” (No matter that she’s not Chinese–I just hope that wasn’t her only tip.)

“Nope, she’s off today. But I’ll tell her you asked after her.”

“Oh, that’s too bad, because I brought her another two dollar bill,” he said, smiling. “She’d never seen one until I gave her one.”

“Come on Dad,” motioned the daughter, almost groaning. “Let’s go upstairs, now.” The wife and mom was already in the elevator.

Stop rushing him so much, I thought. Appreciate him a second or two longer. Let the rest of us appreciate him a minute more.

Time is precious, you know?