I went to dinner last night at The Meatball Shop and as I was waiting for my table, I spotted a note hanging in the side stand.
Ballers! Peace out and much love! I will miss all of you. At the risk of sounding cheesy y'all have been like a family to me. Keep in touch, drinks soon (as long as I get home early). Good luck, babies.
Love xo, Meg
What can we learn from this note? First, we can see that Meg has some really great handwriting and that she has little or no respect for a seating chart. Secondly, we know that she likes to drink but she likes to get in early which sounds just like me. (Hint: drink at home in bed. That's what I do and it makes life so much easier.) Lastly, we learn that Meg really cared about her coworkers. The hostess told me it was Meg's last day. When my server arrived at the table, I told her I saw the note and asked her if she was Meg.
"Oh, no, she already left."
"It's a sweet note," I said.
"I know, we're gonna miss her so much but she is so excited to not have to wait tables anymore."
I imagine that Meg got her big break on Broadway or finally finished law school or won the lottery. For whatever reason, Meg got out but it is clear that she is leaving a little bit of her heart at The Meatball Shop. If not her heart, then at the very least some good friends.
Over the many years that I have been wearing an apron, I have made some very close friends. Who would have thought that Houlihan's in Times Square would have given me anything other than recurring nightmares, high blood pressure, angina and a raging case of lice? It turns out that it also gave me some good friends. I left that hell hole over 15 years ago and I am still in touch with people I met there. Just moments ago, I got a text from Jane who made her way into my life via nachos and chicken fingers on 49th and Seventh. We now live on the same street and still see each other on a regular basis. Every holiday season I get a phone call from Abbass who I worked with at the Marriott. I left that job over eight years ago but I can always count on his yearly message telling me to have a wonderful Christmas.
The people you meet at your restaurant job sometimes are the best thing about your restaurant job. Many times, they are the only reason you stay at your restaurant job. My point is that we all have jobs and we all have co-workers, but something about slinging hash ties us closer together, and I'm not talking about the apron strings. I don't know what it is, but when you work so closely with a group of people and your goal is all the same, something happens sometimes and you start to care about them. Maybe it's because we all lean on each other for support whether it's picking up a shift or doing the side work for someone who doesn't feel well. Maybe it's because so many of us in the restaurant industry share a passion for something else like acting or writing and we find ourselves amongst kindred spirits. Or maybe it's just that I've been extremely lucky and have so often been surrounded by really great people who I like. (Except, you Moe. I still really don't like you. It's been almost two years and you still get on my last fucking nerve.) Am I alone in this feeling? I doubt it.
Good luck, Meg. I hope your life after waiting tables is a fulfilling one but more than that, I hope you maintain your friendships with the people at The Meatball Shop. Judging by your note, you really like them and judging by my server, they really like you.
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