My boyfriend and I are mystery shoppers. For those of you who are not familiar with the term, we go to restaurants, evaluate the service and get paid for it. In short, it is a fantastic gig.
Months ago (and I mean MONTHS) we were on a mystery shop at a local restaurant. We tried to use a coupon when it was time to settle up and were (gasp) denied. This led to a brouhaha which ultimately led to us being denied use of said coupon which ultimately led to me saying some things that I know were terrible, but which I cannot remember.
At any rate, we ended up not leaving a tip for our server because we felt like we were screwed over. Before we even arrived home I was convicted of the fact that I had said terrible things to our server and left her no tip. I vowed to go back and give our female server $5 for the tip she should have gotten, but didn't. Days turned into weeks and weeks into months and, well, you know the rest of the story. I never went back.
Until tonight. Tonight we returned to said location and we both recognized our server right away. It was the one we had so many months ago. She looked at us hesitantly, then approached our table, in a super-friendly fashion. I knew immediately that it was her, as I never forget a face, but I also knew she knew it was us. She was overly nice, more than accommodating, acting like someone who needed to prove a point. I get it, I understand. As soon as I saw her, I knew what I had to do. I rarely have cash, but I reached into my wallet and found a $5 bill.
Our food came and Brooklyn continued to provide amazing service. We drank a few beers, ate our food and the time came for me to ask a few questions. I warned Ric that I might get emotional when I talked to her; he said I would be ok. But I know me. I get emotional. At the drop of a hat. Constantly.
Once she brought our bill, I asked her how long she had worked at the restaurant. She said 4 years. I said, I don't know if you remember us, but....She nodded in recognition, saying she indeed remembered us and didn't think we would ever come back. I slipped her the $5 bill, apologized to her, and told her she deserved it. She smiled, thanked me, extended grace to me, saying that everyone has a bad day and that she was glad we came back. And, yes, I broke up while talking to her, my eyes welling with tears.
The human part of me, the selfish part, expected her to also admit wrongdoing yet she didn't. I did what I needed to do, regardless of whether she recognized wrongdoing on her part or not. And that's really OK. Maybe she didn't do anything wrong. Maybe it was all me. I am completely and totally willing to accept total responsibility for my bad behavior. I acted abhorrently and I knew it as soon as the words came out of my mouth all those months ago.
On the short drive home I reflected on all of this. I thought about how God, in his infinite infiniteness, allows us second chances...and how He orchestrates it all, not for His good, but for ours. Yet one more reason to praise Him...and to be thankful this Thanksgiving.
Making it Right
