Lunch Freebie

    You know those scenes where the bartender sets a drink in front of a woman and says, “It’s from the guy at the end of the bar.” The woman raises the glass in thanks and the man raises an eyebrow.

     Two friends and I were out to lunch today (some might say in more ways than one), holding our table hostage for a good two plus hours. Our iced teas were drained, our plates were clean, and it was time to go. We’d all had pretty much the same thing and so handed over our credit cards to the waitress, asking her to please split it three ways. It was only the waitress’s third day on the job so she was eager to be helpful, but unsure how to do the split. We went on with our conversation while she was away for some time, conferring and conferring with a fellow worker at the register.

     She returned, handed back our cards, and said we were all set. We pointed out she hadn’t given us any slips to sign. She paused, and then whispered, “I wasn’t supposed to say anything, but that man at the counter paid for your lunches.”

     We were dumbfounded, none of us having led the kind of lives where that sort of thing happens. We left our waitress a fat tip and before leaving, we handed him a napkin thanking him for his kind gesture, telling him he’d made our day.

     We laughed all the way home over our adventure.

     It wasn’t until about an hour later I realized that in reality, it wasn’t so much because the gentleman had been so mesmerized by three women of a certain age.

He more likely had paid the bill to save our waitress from her conundrum.