My mother and our friend frequent a particular Denny’s. They travel there to see a waitress they have befriended. She looks after them well, and they only go there when she’s working. They exchange Christmas cards and gifts with
her, and one year, when we were spending Christmas with them, we attended
a Christmas Eve service at her church.
I’m not sure that my wife and I ever hoped to forge such a strong
relationship with the staff at our local Denny’s, but we found one waiter we always
looked forward to seeing. I can only
wonder at what might have developed, had the manager chosen to value us as
well, instead of making us feel unwanted.
My mother had told me that they would be collecting The
Hobbit cards for me at Denny’s, and the first night of their visit, she handed
me an envelope. I opened it to find a thick
stack of cards. I hurriedly dug out my
own cards, and went through her stack. Although
she had many that were the same as mine, in some cases multiple examples, I
ended up with three new cards. This
meant that I had nine out of the ten regular cards. As I had never hoped to receive one of the two
Limited Edition cards, I only needed one more to complete my set. If I didn’t get it, I figured nine out of ten
was pretty good. More importantly, I had
Bilbo Baggins, who along with Gandalf, are the two characters from the novel that mean
the most to me.
The dwarves Balin and Fili, and my first hobbit friend, Bilbo Baggins, have graced my humble home. |
Of course, the cards are really just something fun to
collect. So, although we thought of dining
at a Denny’s while in Florida, we opted for restaurants we couldn’t visit as
easily back home. But on Christmas Eve,
when my mother offered to take us out to lunch at Denny’s, I didn’t complain. I figured they would most likely be out of
packs, as the movie had been out in theaters for a while. Still, I held out hope of getting that final
card.
We selected another Denny’s within easy driving
distance. Our waiter laughed and joked
with us as he took our order. My mother
and friend asked about the cards, and explained that I had nearly completed my
set. Although he didn’t seem to think
they had any left, he promised to look. We
ordered three meals off The Hobbit menu, and midway through our lunch, he came
by and solemnly placed a pack of cards before me. “I scrounged up a final pack for you,” he
told me. I thanked him, grateful that he
had searched on my behalf. Then he
reached into a pocket and withdrew another packet. “Don’t tell anyone, but I took these from my
own collection.” My eyes widened: I
hadn’t asked him to do that! Staring
down at me so somberly, he dug into his pocket one final time…and withdrew a
third pack of cards. “Ha ha, there you
are my friend,” he announced. Bursting
into laughter, he bent down, clutching his fists, and did a little dance. “I’m looking forward to seeing what cards you
get,” he told me, when his merriment subsided.
I started to open one pack. He
laid a hand on my shoulder. “No, wait,
enjoy your meal first,” he told me.
After we finished eating, I opened the packs, and he leaned
close to watch. The first pack, and then
the second, contained only cards I already possessed. Then, on the third, I got a Limited Edition
Frodo card. I lifted both hands into the
air in celebration, and he cheered with me, laughing, clutching his hands into
fists, and doing his little dance again.
When we rose to leave, my mother asked him if he would be there in a
couple weeks. He asked, “What happens
then, another prediction from Nostradamus that the world will end?” and laughed
again. “No, my son’s having his
birthday,” my mother replied. “Come in,
and I’ll give you a really nice breakfast,” he told me. “And I’ll keep an eye out for those two last
cards you need.”
Getting that Limited Edition card certainly took me by
surprise. The food at Denny’s tasted
great, and thanks to his attentive service and jovial attitude, dining there
with my mother and our friend proved a pleasant and memorable experience. Is it too much to hope that we might forge a
relationship with this particular restaurant, and become friends with this kind
and considerate waiter? He might not
burst into song while he serves us, or juggle plates and cups with skill and panache, but he seems like someone I’d like to know better. Perhaps, even befriend.
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