I can believe it; this is what happened to me… almost exactly!

I was reading my favorite blog for servers, waiterrant.net, and the entry titled “Tiramisu Dream” this morning when I shot up in my chair in amazement. This guy practically told the story for me!

So it was a warm Sunday, or hangover Sunday as I like to refer to it. Everyone, and I mean everyone, in my restaurant is hung-over on Sundays.

So, everyone is in a grumpy mood as the Sunday “holy-rollers,” as my boss affectionately calls them, come in.

I was doing great, in a good mood, and the money was reflecting that. It’s about 3pm when this couple rolls in. They, of course, complain about their original table and move into my section. Sonja hands me the silverware she intended to give them. “They’re all yours,” she tells me with a sly grin.

I take a good look, sizing them up. The man is wearing a white turtleneck under a blue blazer. He looks a little over fifty. The women he is with slides into the green booth. He slides in next to her. Wait, I think to myself, is this a table for four? I walk closer. No, they only have two menus.

They two begin to embrace one another as I approach them. I blush three shades of pink and look at them. They notice me, unwrap, and I introduce myself. They give me the, oh so funny, well I’m such-and-such and this is such-and-such. Very cute, right? I’m supposed to introduce myself. I smile politely and ask them what they want to drink. The two are obviously flushed as look at each other giggling because it is just so funny that they don’t know what they want to drink. The man looks at me with a smile, “Could you give us a minute?” he asks.

“Sure,” I tell him, slightly relieved. I need a reprieve.

I go back after noticing the two, after embracing more, have, in fact, seen we have Coke products.

She orders a root beer. He gets water. You guys are so good at making decisions, I think to myself. That was a tough one.

I give them their drinks and the man tells me they want an appetizer to start off with. I take their order, his hand feverously close to her inner thighs at this point. I ask if they need more time to order lunch. He says they do and sits the menus on the other side of the table. If you aren’t going to look at them, why do you need more time?

I decide to avoid them until their food is ready. I sit the plates down and ask if they have thought about they want to order. He tells me they just want to munch and orders more apps. Fine, I think. They’re low maintenance and polite. I mind the PDA (or Public Displays of Affection), but I’ll get over it.

I decide to only go to them now and then. They seem to appreciate the privacy as they gaze affectionately into each others eyes while gobbling down dips and wings.

I watch them from the service stand and say to Sonja, “These two are like teen-agers.” She leans against the stand with me as we look at the two, oblivious, kissing and laughing and smooching.

“I hope I love my husband that much when I’m their age,” I tell her.

“Ten bucks says they’re not married,” she says.

“You’re probably right.”

“I bet it’s a second marriage. Or, they’re dating.”

“Or, their dating on the side,” I smirk. The funny thing about cheating men and women, they think they are so sneaky. I remember this one man in particular. He came in one day, rolls up in a red sports car with a leggy blonde. What a cliché right? Anyway, a week later I see him again in the restaurant with a wedding ring and a bitter looking woman. I could be wrong, but I bet she thinks something’s up. I sure do.

Anyway, like in waiterrant.net, I was suspecting a decent tip. Smoochy couples nearly always tip well. Like he says, the man knows he’s getting laid and wants the whole world to feel his glee. He left me $10 on a $20 or so bill. I am happy for you sir! “Have a nice night.”

“I will,” he tells me. I bet you will slugger. Now, go get ‘em!