I spoke this evening to a friend with whom I do not often get to visit.
“You sound better,” he remarked. I felt the firm weight of his assessment settle on my shoulders. I feel better, I admitted. And I found it to be true.
Earlier in the day, I sat at Succotash enjoying coffee before court. I had ordered a sandwich that had turned out not to be very good. The world’s nicest waitress had hovered a few inches from my table, eyeing me as I picked at the disassembled sandwich. Not so good? she asked.
I felt a smile emerge onto my features as I shook my head. Not so good, I acknowledged. In a deft move, she whisked the plate from in front of me. She returned in about five minutes. Lunch, take two! she announced, setting down a thicker, bountiful offering on a clean plate.
A few minutes later, I noticed a woman sitting across the way, hammering at the keys of her computer, staring intently at the screen. I snapped her photo with my tablet and gestured to the waitress. This is classic! I said. Quintessential coffee shop! With bright eyes engaged, really engaged, we laughed and I posted the picture on social media, tagging the restaurant.
I paid my bill and made my way to court. I tipped the waitress 20%. I do not think I have ever “complained” about poorly made food with such finesse nor had quite the gracious response that I got today.
Sitting in my car at the end of the driveway after ten hours of work, I repeat my agreement with the disembodied voice of my friend over the Bluetooth.
I do feel better. I really do.
I think I’m on the downhill slope. I’ll soon be accepting nominations for the renaming of this blog when I get to the end of the twenty-fourth month of my year without complaining. I expect to be ready.