Making it Personal

I liked the simple, no overwrought explanation style that I used once before.  Some stories can stand alone.  This feels like one of those.

Part one:  I get bored at work.  If I think I can get away with it, I will often scribble things on orders.  Sometimes I will crank out a quick smiley face complete with shades; my signature, if you will.  I have been known to write, “from your fan club” or ranted on their container about how I tried valiantly to keep their food from misbehaving but it was having a case of the Mondays. 

Customer names are no different.   I have accused one person of being, “the slayer of evil and the doer of good”.  Extra vowels get thrown in.  In short, I try to inject a little personality into their day-to-day order without offending anyone.

Part two:  There was a customer, let us call her Zelda, who lost her child, who we will call Franz, about a year ago.  We are not talking an old person who watched their offspring grow to adulthood.  I doubt that Franz was more than ten.  I do not know the specifics because Zelda never told me story.  It was one of those pieces of information that get shared around to encourage understanding.

 A few months ago, probably around the holidays, I told her that I often thought of her and what she had gone through.  I have not experienced that kid of loss myself, but I know plenty (too many) mothers that have.  I hugged her, she thanked me, and it never really came up again.

Part three:  Zelda came in yesterday.  As I was writing down her order, she shared this information: 

“You know, I never told you about the last time you wrote my drink.  I was sitting in a meeting and somebody said, ‘What is that written on your cup?’  And it said, ‘Zelda the Mighty.  Rawr!’” 

I remembered writing it, but did not attribute any special meaning to it.  Perhaps I had read a Thor comic that week.  “Mighty” felt like the word to write that day.  She is not a particularity warrior-esque figure.   I had the pen, I had the order; I went for it.  To prove my wacky nature, I wrote an even longer description on her cup yesterday. 

I was just clocking off and she caught me over in the corner. 

“You know, my son?  My family always called him Franz the Mighty.  So that name has a special meaning to me.” 

I hugged her and we went about our days.