a moment in someone’s shoes


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Mondays tend to be rough for many of us. I had a particularly rough day, recuperating from a family weekend of cooking and playing (6 of my 8 brothers and sisters in attendance), overflowing sinks and toilets, nephews dive bombing each other in the pool, and no husband on site (he was on a golf weekend). While family reunions are a ton of fun, clean-up is not.

So yesterday was spent washing towels, loading the dishwasher (again), mopping floors, catching up on email and bills, and topping off the evening with a meeting. By 7 p.m. I was starving, so I called our local Macaroni Grill to pick up dinner. They said it would be ready in 15 minutes.

After navigating around what looked like a major accident on Lyons Avenue, I made it to the Grill 20-30 minutes later. My take-out was not ready, so I waited.

The take-out waiting area at Macaroni Grill is right in the kitchen area. There were about 6 chefs on duty, a bunch of waiters, one take-out girl, about one-half of the restaurant filled and it was chaos! Flames were flying out of grills, waiters were storming back and forth (“This is not hot!” “There is meat sauce on this and she is a vegetarian!” “Where’s the Pasta Milano?” “I want to go home now!” that was from one of the chefs) and a manager trying to keep the peace.

The take-out girl was apologizing all over herself. Thank you for being patient, she said. After another 20 minutes and part of my order nowhere to be found, I took what she had and left.

Once safe and sound at home with a glass of wine in my hand, I thought to myself “I am so glad I do not work in a restaurant.” Those people must have nerves of steel and blood pressure so low they can make it through night after night.

I felt I had walked just a moment in their shoes that night. Thank you restaurant people. My hat is tipped….



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