Who Was This Guy?

photo by @brooklark

We went out to breakfast at our favorite haunt on Monday. It was nice to sit and be served. Our waiter introduced himself as Joseph. He took our drink order, chatting about what good choices we’d made. He asked did we want sugar? Cream? Honey? Extra lemon?
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He nodded, smiling in approval with each yes or no we delivered. We ordered 2 hot teas and 1 glass of water with lemon no ice. I could see him moving back and forth at the drinks station. He didn’t wait on anyone else.
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It took him 12 minutes. We. Needed. Caffeine. Now! He was so slow the host came to our table to ask if anyone had been over to wait on us yet.
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Joseph finally returned with our tea bags, cups, lemons, and the glass of water all perfectly placed on a little tray covered with a white cloth. He carefully arranged each item on the table, spinning the cups so the handles faced just so. He placed two extra saucers at the edge of the table remarking, “I’ll be back with your hot water.”
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I had my fingers crossed that he’d return in the next 15 minutes. But there he was a few moments later with the two pots of hot water, which he placed so the spouts faced each other making a heart shape. A small grimace passed over his face and he rearranged the pots to mirror one another in their width from the edge of the table. He moved my water glass so that it was exactly above my right hand. Satisfied with the symmetry and the placement of the drinks, Joseph asked for our order.
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Oh my freaking god.
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I thought to myself, he isn’t just a waiter, he’s an obsessive-compulsive waiter. This must be a nightmare for him. Can you imagine what it must be like to be a waiter who has to have the entire symmetry of the table set before they can go on to the next thing?

Once our food came, he sat down my plate making sure it was directly in front of me with the biscuit angled to the left saying, “How does that omelet look?” Before I could stop myself, I blurted out, “It certainly looks like an omelet.” He smiled sadly. Crap, that was snotty of me. But asking me about the food before I’ve had a taste seemed premature. Stop back after I’ve taken a bite and I’ll be happy to tell you my thoughts.
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Joseph did stop back after we’d had a few bites to ask if everything was okay. I turned on an enthusiastic smile to make up for my earlier snottiness and we both told him our food was delicious. He beamed.
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Then came the plate clearing and the next phase of Joseph’s need to have the table organized surfaced with a vengeance. Not only did he remove our plates he tidied the table around us adjusting our cups just so, moving the hot water pots and aligning them with military precision. He even reset my water glass after I took a sip.
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We set back in our chairs and watched him go at it.
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Ken asked for the check and Joseph presented the folder with a flourish. The credit card was whisked off and Joseph returned with the receipt to sign.  “He’s wiped off the receipt’s folder inside and out,” Ken said. “It’s much cleaner than when he presented it earlier.” We tipped him well.
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Joseph stopped by the table to pick up the check and stood there and looked at us. We looked at him. He said he hoped we enjoyed our breakfast. We said we had. He said now we were ready for the day. Ah yes, we said we were. He stood there. He said he hoped we’d had a good time. We looked at him. He looked at us. And with a sigh, Joseph bid us good-bye.
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You know, I liked him a lot.
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