If I were the sort of person who used the word “heart” as a verb, I would say that I heart greasy spoon restaurants.
Or if I were the kind of person who used periods for emphasis, I might say I. Love. Greasy. Spoons.
I’m not one of those people.
Nor do I, I would guess, come across as the kind of person who likes to eat greasy anything. Oh, but I do.
Part of it has to do with my years waitressing through high school. I like the local restaurant environment, the personality of the staff, the regular customers, the mismatched decorations and sticky floors. I find this all very life-enhancing.
So it should not surprise you that I frequent one of our local greasy spoons. J humors me on this point, since he doesn’t really care for their food, and we’ve gone there often enough that we’re pretty familiar with the wait staff. We often end up with one waitress in particular, the one with long white-blonde hair, a baseball cap, and blue eye shadow. She is always somewhat grouchy, as often happens at greasy spoons, and doesn’t even respond well to my cheery chit-chat and glowing personality. Amazing, I know.
I got to choose our restaurant for an impromptu lunch date this week, so guess where we ended up?
After we slid into our booth, our beloved waitress came over to the table and as she greeted us, asking us how we were doing, she smiled at us.
Now maybe I wouldn’t have noticed that anything out of the ordinary had happened, had I been by myself or even out with friends. Maybe.
But as she walked away, J leaned in to me and whispered, “Someone’s in a good mood!”
I liked that, the little reminder that we can know people enough to be able to realize little changes in habits, attitude, or personality. It’s even possible at the greasy spoon.
And that’s saying something.