First Impressions

The past several days, over a week now, have had me under the weather. Combine a case of walking pneumonia with a reaction to the medication I was prescribed, along with a switch to the night shift, and you’ve got someone who feels worn out just about all the time. Seems like I can’t get enough sleep, and when I’m awake, I have no energy to get anything accomplished. I haven’t even written in this blog for close to two weeks.

Still, I did manage to find time and energy to keep a lunch date with a friend a week or so ago. It amazes me how easily we judge people we don’t even know.

The waitress who took our order was not unpleasant, but there was no hint of friendliness in her demeanor either. She presented herself as all business as she placed our drinks and silverware in front of us. There was no "hi, how are you today" or other form of greeting. Simply a "what do you want to drink"and "are you ready to order". My first impression was that she was a young woman who had probably stayed out too late the night before partying with friends and was suffering the effects while on the job today.

She returned with our food a few minutes later and then proceeded to clean the vacated table across from us. In the process, she dropped a glass into the tub used to collect the dirty dishes. It didn’t break, but her expression made it obvious she was annoyed and frustrated.

“Not your day,” my friend offered.

The woman looked up with a tight expression on her face. “No, it’s not, and yesterday wasn’t my day either,” she answered. “Yesterday, I had to put my dog to sleep.” Her granite face softened as she fought to choke back tears.

In an instant, my whole perspective on this young lady changed. She explained how it was difficult enough to make the decision to euthanize her beloved pet, but it was heartbreaking to have to explain to her two children, ages three and five, why she had made that choice. “It was time for him to go be with God, where he would be happy and healthy again,” she had told her little ones. She described the small funeral service they held for their beloved canine friend.

Soon, my friend and I were expressing our sympathy and sharing our own stories of lost pets with the grieving waitress. Before we left the restaurant, we each gave her a hug and wished her and her children well.

Who would have thought when I walked into that restaurant that I’d be giving a stone-faced waitress a hug before I left?

I felt ashamed of myself for judging her the way I had, labeling her as a bored party girl who resented the fact she had to work for a living. Here she was a single mom at work and wishing she could be at home with her heartbroken little ones, comforting them and helping them through their loss.

If only we would take a moment to seek the story behind the supposed boredom, or anger, or despair we see in the faces of others, we might learn that we have more in common with them than we think.