A few weeks ago I invited two of my colleagues to my favorite fine dining restaurant for dinner. The three of us decided that, in addition to our entrees, we’d share one large “macho salad” loaded with goodies including “chopped dates.” One of my guests didn’t like dates so we ordered them on the side.
So far, so good.
The delicious salad came with a small side dish of large date slices. I did not have a sharp knife nor did I want to touch everyone’s portion of the sticky fruit with my hands, so I politely asked the waitress if the chef might chop the slices for us, and she took the bowl of dates to the kitchen.
The waitress returned just moments later, set the bowl of unchopped dates back on the table and said, “The chef won’t do it.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Really?” I smiled, “Why not?” She just shrugged her shoulders sheepishly.
So I became the sous chef and chopped the dates into edible, sharable, bite-size pieces.
The dining experience continued to decline with both the service and food quality not up to the usual high standards this restaurant is known for.
After dinner I slipped away and asked to speak privately with the manager. I related my disappointing dining experience, acknowledging that even the best restaurants have an off night. He apologized for it all EXCEPT he said, “Our policy is not to cut the dates- they are the size they should be.”
I was incredulous and a bit indignant. My ego started to rant in my head, “The ‘chopped’ dates are the diameter of my esophagus! I did not come here to work in the kitchen! For God’s sakes it takes 8 seconds to chop these dates!”
This is not a typical essay about poor customer service. Instead, the trivial annoyance reminded me to look at my own behavior. What “dates” am I refusing to chop? What little things do I dig in my heels about- that disappoint those I care for deeply-that make me miss easy opportunities to connect and bring a small bit of joy to someone’s life? Do I slow down and let the driver with his blinkers on merge into my lane? Do I pick up my dishes instead of leaving them scattered in the family room, knowing what a source of irritation it is to others? Do I send in my information late to my colleagues who need my details to do their jobs? When do I irrationally rationalize that my “date size” is the correct one and insist on my own egoic way?
And more importantly, how might I instead delightfully capitalize on the opportunity to serve and scatter some joy?
The restaurant manager comped our meals that night, but what I really received was a gift of insight at how I might connect better in my daily interactions.
So what about you? What are the dates you ‘re refusing to chop? I’d love to hear your stories.
It’s something to think about.
PS: I have one more spot at my next event: The Invitation Retreat: Corona del Mar, November 7-10.
www.maryloverde2013retreats.eventbrite.com.
Mary LoVerde 