Finally Fred is Fed...

I figure that it has been long enough since I last posted a blog. So I will now tell you a little story to help you get reacquainted with my life.

The hum of life swirled around the dark wood table. Dishes were clashing, people were talking, and waitresses were running. It was another normal night at the restaurant and my mother and I had come in to join the routine.
We were seated at a table near the kitchen. It was not a particularly nice place to be seated. And what made it worse (for me, that is) was that I sat with my back to the aisle. I am silently nit-picky about where and how I sit, especially in restaurants. I sucked up my discomfort and pressed on to enjoy the evening.
Salad, soup, breadsticks and spinach-artichoke dip with a refreshing three glasses of raspberry lemonade made up the first course. We had been there for well over a half hour before the main course came out. Chris, our friendly waiter, came straight towards us, the steaming dishes of pasta sitting atop his black serving tray. I smiled and put my hands in my lap waiting for my dinner to be placed in front of my anticipating mouth. The plate came off the tray and was situated in front of me safely. I cannot say, however, that that was the same case with my mother's meal.
In those milliseconds before the food hit the carpet I could see the horrific expression of shock and humiliation streak across Chris' once bright, friendly face. I gasped as the loud CLUNK from plate hitting table rang in my ears. My mother, who was looking away unawares of the scene unfolding before us, shot around at the sound of my gasp just in time to be greeted with a leg full of pasta and chicken. I released the breath I realized I was holding as my gaze darted between Chris and my mother.
"I'm so sorry! Oh. I'm so sorry!"
He quickly bent down and picked up the plate. By this time every pair of eyes were trained on us. How would she react to this blunder?
"Don't you waste one minute worrying about it. I was going home after this anyway. It’s fine."
After a couple dozen more apologies Chris hurried away into the kitchen to order the chefs to get started immediately on a new plate. I couldn't help but laugh. I looked at the wasted food and the woman who was assigned to clean it up and though, "If only Budy were here. He'd clean it up faster then a broom and dust pan could." When the response "Yeah, isn't there a dog somewhere who could eat it?" came I realized I had actually voiced my thought. The woman shook her head and stared down at the mess then at the broom and dust pan in her hands. Sweeping up pasta from a carpet seemed strange to me, but she got her job done, and done well.
As expected, the manager was soon at our side apologizing for everything. "I'm so sorry about this. I'll take care of it for you. The chefs are making more right now."
"Don't worry about it. Tell him not to worry about it."
"Oh, he’s just been fired."
Only a jest, of course, but I'm not sure that I want to know the chewing out he got after that day at work.
The food was brought out as quickly as possible and the meal continued with little more drama. Chris apologized a few more times and told us that the plate was too hot when he took it to place on the table. It had burned his fingers when they made contact with the dish as did many other dishes that night. He had the bright red finger tips to prove it.
“Now I know where not to work.” I stated as we wrapped up.
True to his word the manager covered the cost of the pasta and also offered desert, which we declined, although the chocolate cake did look good. I would have just been happy with a couple extra free chocolates.
But all in all it was a good night to be us at Olive Garden. Hey, blessings come in different varieties of packaging.