There’s a family owned diner here in Hamden Helaine and I sometimes visit on Saturday evenings.
“I’m a cheap date,” she’ll say after we both order omelets.
We went there tonight. As we walked toward the register a family in the booth across the aisle asked about the weather. That was the enabling moment and before long I’d been beckoned to a few booths, two waitresses standing near the kitchen window and a woman at the end of the counter.
Helaine had paid by the time I made it to the door.
“You must hate that,” the woman behind the register said.
I have heard that sentence or a variation on the theme a thousand times. The funny thing is it’s not true. Most times people are very nice. Usually they wait for what they perceive as an opportune moment. That’s appreciated.
I wanted to be on TV. I understood being seen was part of the bargain. Of course it’s compounded night-after-night. Who thinks when they take a job they’re going to be there 25+ years? Not me.
The people who say hello are the people I work for. Without them I’ve got nothing.
I wish I was perfect, because I know I’ve been short with people more than once. I regret that. Mostly I try to be gracious. Who could possibly mind that people think enough of you to say hello?