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Rated: 13+ · Non-fiction · Family · #1699872
A true story, this happened one night while serving tables in a restaurant
Good Samaritan Mother




         I want to share with you something that happened to me one night.  First, reaching early middle age, I have found that I am something of a cynic.  In today’s world, everyone has to come first in their minds.  First in line to get in a movie, first in line at the store, taking shortcuts on the road to get a couple of cars ahead when the expressway is jam packed.  I call it the WIIFM (What’s In It For Me) syndrome, and it seems that almost the whole world is getting it.  So I’m moved almost to tears when I see someone do something nice or special for a stranger while remaining entirely anonymous.  In fact, in telling the recipients of this Good Samaritan’s act, I had trouble focusing since my eyes kept misting as I explained what they did.  But I get ahead of my story.

         I have two jobs, and in both jobs, I interact with people quite a bit.  In my full time job, I work as an instructor teaching classes to technicians on two-way radio systems maintenance and repair.  In the evenings, I wait tables at a seafood restaurant, taking care of people and doing my best to see that they have a pleasant dining experience.

         On a recent Thursday night I was training a new server so she could learn the trade according to ‘our way of business’. A party of six was seated in my section, two adults with their young children; the oldest may have been eight or nine.  We greeted them; and of course the kids were a little loud wanting this to drink or that for dinner, but that’s how children can be in a restaurant.  I try not to judge people when I greet them; it tends to cause one to give less than their best when taking care of them.  But these two adults were very non-descript at first glance.  Late 20’s to early 30’s; the father unshaven with a weeks worth of beard; the mother dressed very casually as you’d expect when out with the family.  Everything went well though, the kids were fine and we managed to get their meals ordered and on the way.  Because the restaurant got busy, a second table was seated right next to the first; again a couple with their four children.  Except these were more properly called young adults since the youngest was about sixteen or so.  The oldest had on a T-shirt that made it obvious he was either in the Army, or had been in the Army.  We greeted them too, and started them on their dining experience; appetizers and a couple of beers for the father and oldest son, salads and such.  As I worked on both tables, I noticed the young children at the first table turning around and ‘playing’ with the young adults at the second table.  A little surprisingly, the young adults were having as much fun kidding around with the younger children as any one would.  The first table was almost through with their meals when the second party wanted two more beers for the father and oldest son.

         While I was ordering the second round of beers, the mother from the first table approached me and said, “I want to pay for the meals of the table next to us.”

         I was a little surprised but said, “Oh, I take it that they are good friends of yours.”

         She replied back, “No, I don’t know them, but I do want to pay their check.”

         I looked at her and said, “I have to tell you, their check is $175 right now.”  She didn’t bat an eye or change her expression, and said, “That doesn’t matter, I’m buying their meals.”  I took her credit card and processed it for both checks, and handed her the check presenter with them in it, then thanked her for coming by to see us, and to come back again.  I say this to everyone I meet, but in this case, I do hope to see her and her family again.  They then left without saying much to anyone, other than saying bye to the table next to them, and to me.  I did tell the mother that I wouldn’t say a word to the other party until they were through with their meals and ready for their check, and she thanked me for this.

         When I got both credit card copies back from the check presenter, she’d tipped me nicely (more than 20%) for my service to her and her family, but also 20% for the other table!  To say I was amazed would be an understatement.

         As the other family was finishing their meal, I found I was anxious to tell them about their check being paid, because I knew they’d feel like I felt.  I was hoping against hope that they would order a dessert or something so I could bring them a check for $7, but that didn’t happen.  When they were all done and I’d cleaned the table off, I approached them and said, “I’d bring your check to you, but I can’t, it’s already been paid.”

         They looked at me incredulously; the myriad questions in their minds came out all at once.

         “How?”

         “Who?”

         “What do you mean, paid?”

         “Why?”

         You can imagine the questions they had going through their minds.  So I explained that the young couple with the four young children that had been at the next table had insisted on paying for their meals.  We had a nice chat for a few minutes, and it came out that the oldest son had returned from Baghdad in November, and was stationed at Fort Wainwright, Alaska now.  I told him that my hat was off to him because not everyone could do what he’d done, and I’m not sure I could do it myself.  I’ve served my time in our military, but being in the Army was never something I considered, and to me, it takes a special person to be willing to put their life on the line like he and so many others have done.

         Everyone I’ve told this story to asks why the mother wanted to pay their check for them.  There are a couple of reasons I’m sure, but I never asked her why she was doing that, it was none of my business.  But I think it’s because of the oldest son returning home, and because of the way the young adults played with her younger children.  I do know this though; this not so old cynic doesn’t feel so old anymore, nor does he feel like such a cynic.




Jim Dorrell

1/28/07


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