To the man on table 38.
My name is Seren. Not Sarah.
I am your waitress for the two hours you are in this establishment.
I am not your slave.
There are a few things you need to know.
I would like to thank you for being one of my tables for the evening. The one of 16 I had that evening. I would like to thank you for reaffirming my beliefs in myself. I would like to thank you from the bottom of my heart for giving me the ability to stand up for myself. I would like to say that I am not sorry for what I said. That you told me I was rude for asking for a tip. That I gave excellent service with terrible opinions. I am not sorry that you were one of my 16 tables that evening. Why you may ask?
When I introduced myself you said my name was too difficult and that you would call me Sarah. I said you might as well clap your hands at me. Its about the same.
When I asked if you had been here before, you scoffed and questioned why I wouldn’t remember such a handsome man like yourself. I told you because you may look like every other white man who comes in here. With a smile. I told you maybe you should try make yourself memorable.
And boy, oh boy, did you.
You were ever so slightly taller than me. Blue collared shirt. Black dress pants. Black tie and a belt that was begging to be released from around your over weight waist.
You were clean shaven but had clipped yourself on the right side of your chin. You had salt and pepper hair and bad teeth. You spoke with your hands which worried me and within the first 30 seconds of our interaction I already knew what I was in for.
You said you wanted a bottle of wine. I looked at you, tilted my head and asked if this wine had a name.
You told me I was a stupid girl and that you wanted a red.
I told you how fantastic that is but that I cannot help you until your become more specific. I also said its not like this joke ever gets old. And internally I said “unlike you.”
You told me a shiraz and before I left I said that since you have been here before and that you seem quiet confident that I expect you to have your order ready by the time I get back.
Now when I came back. I did give you around 7 minutes to do so. You were leaning across the table trying to make a point to the gentleman who said with you. That poor poor soul. RIP his wasted evening.
You then told me that you were ready to order and promptly asked how old am I?
Your eyebrows lifted. Like the opportunist bastard that you are.
21, you repeated at me.
I told you yes. I didn’t stutter.
You then said how amazing my figure is for such a lovely young lady.
You then also took this opportunity to tell me how my hips would be perfect to balance children on. How I am wasting my life here. At work.
I told you that I am here to take your food order not to be stared at. You laughed.
Then I got mad.
I smiled. Laughed and then asked if you were married.
Two can play at this game and this is my game.
Meet your master position 3 on table 38. This won’t be fun. It never is for men like you. You ‘friend’ lent back in his chair and knew what was coming.
Word for word this is what I said. I wrote it down after my shift. Because if it came back as a complaint I would of liked to be prepared.
“Sir, as I have just said I am here to take your order. If you need more time, let me know. What I need you to do right now is listen. Your job is simple, sit down and read. Make a decision and then tell me. My name is Seren, not Sarah, I will not come over to this table if you ask for Sarah, I won’t do anything for you in a hurry if you continue on this track. If fact I would be so bold as a woman who is 21 to ask you to leave. I do not come to work and ask to be judged on my appearance. It is not in my contract to look a certain way and it is not your job to tell me how great I look. I know. Because unlike you, I don’t need to pick on others to feel better. I do not need to tell a woman how great her hips would be at carrying children. So Sir, are you ready to order or do you need 5 minutes to think about your choice of steak this evening?”
He said that he was ready to order.
And then I power tripped him into another week.
He wanted a rare steak that has a lot of fat in it. Now being the kind person I am, I informed him that he would be a fool to insult the animal asking it to be rare because you are not going to enjoy the cut. That, for his benefit and the cows he should go for medium.
Now his face began to pucker and I was not going to stop there. His dinner member picked up his glass of wine and was more ready than I was to see him be destroyed.
I said “Sir, I know you will find it difficult to take advice from a woman, a young woman at that, so please give me one moment.”
I turned around and asked my male co worker to come to the table.
I asked him on his advice on the cooking temperature for the wagyu scotch. He said medium is best. I said thank you and just stood there with my hands behind my back.
You followed my lead.
You ate your steak and didn’t dare tell me I was right, or wrong for the matter.
You drank your wine.
You paid your bill and I told you how fantastic of an evening it had been serving you.
Your ‘friend’ waited till you descended down the stairs and stuck his hand out.
He shook my hand and thanked me for a memorable evening. How he shall continue to come back and see me and how he wished me all the luck in the future. As he smiled and pulled his hand away he had given me a $50 note.
You never complained. You have never come back in.
Your friend has been back. We never bring you up. We just nod at each other.