No Respect
Work today began like any other closing shift at the restaurant. I was right bored with the goings-on of the coffee-row folks of the evening...save for one man.
Not to be racist, but I was quite surprised by how interested I was to hear about this native man's life. When I moved to pour him a cup of coffee he suddenly turned to me and said with a soft voice, "You know, the only day I'll ever get respect is the day I die." I was shocked to the core. This man already looked a little lonely and this statement almost depressed me. So I chatted him up a few seconds and walked away to help other tables. After my other tables were all well and good, I decided to go ask the man what was up. It took a bit of mustering of my courage, but I eventually went over.
I don't know what drove me to sit with the man. His words echoed in my head so loudly. So when I finally sat down, it dawned on me. I felt an intense need to offer this man some respect.
Was it because I wanted to prove to myself that I wasn't a racist? Or to satisfy some inner hero-complex...Or maybe I was just trying to earn as much tip from him as possible (coffee-only people tip little). Truth is, I'm not sure, but either way, I felt better having sat down to talk to him.
He explained how he's been getting little respect due to his race, and his conditions. I asked what was wrong with him and he casually in that same soft voice replied that he was a bi-polar schizophrenic. He seemed so nice. So explained that he was heavily medicated and I found his story of how he got himself help to be rather humorous (he hadn't been getting help for his conditions when he explained it to therapists, so he walked into the hospital one day and demanded that somebody chop off his balls, and that if they didn't do it, he would. So they strapped him down and dosed him up for a few days before sending him out with prescription meds.). We shared some laughs and a few cups of coffee. By the end of it he seemed rather pleased that I took the time out of my day to visit him and he offered me a large tip. I told him the minimum would do me fine.
Because of all of this I got the best reward for helping a customer I've gotten to date. He looked at me with a smile and said "You're a good man."
Sometimes that's all an average student-waiter wants to hear.
Not to be racist, but I was quite surprised by how interested I was to hear about this native man's life. When I moved to pour him a cup of coffee he suddenly turned to me and said with a soft voice, "You know, the only day I'll ever get respect is the day I die." I was shocked to the core. This man already looked a little lonely and this statement almost depressed me. So I chatted him up a few seconds and walked away to help other tables. After my other tables were all well and good, I decided to go ask the man what was up. It took a bit of mustering of my courage, but I eventually went over.
I don't know what drove me to sit with the man. His words echoed in my head so loudly. So when I finally sat down, it dawned on me. I felt an intense need to offer this man some respect.
Was it because I wanted to prove to myself that I wasn't a racist? Or to satisfy some inner hero-complex...Or maybe I was just trying to earn as much tip from him as possible (coffee-only people tip little). Truth is, I'm not sure, but either way, I felt better having sat down to talk to him.
He explained how he's been getting little respect due to his race, and his conditions. I asked what was wrong with him and he casually in that same soft voice replied that he was a bi-polar schizophrenic. He seemed so nice. So explained that he was heavily medicated and I found his story of how he got himself help to be rather humorous (he hadn't been getting help for his conditions when he explained it to therapists, so he walked into the hospital one day and demanded that somebody chop off his balls, and that if they didn't do it, he would. So they strapped him down and dosed him up for a few days before sending him out with prescription meds.). We shared some laughs and a few cups of coffee. By the end of it he seemed rather pleased that I took the time out of my day to visit him and he offered me a large tip. I told him the minimum would do me fine.
Because of all of this I got the best reward for helping a customer I've gotten to date. He looked at me with a smile and said "You're a good man."
Sometimes that's all an average student-waiter wants to hear.