I celebrated my birthday recently and like many previous birthdays before it, my wife took me out to dinner. Of course, my wife and I go out to dinner every weekend, but since it was my birthday, she paid. That is what makes the dinner special.
As we walked into the restaurant, I noticed how young all of the workers were. From the hostess, to the waiters and waitresses to the busboys, all of the employees looked extremely young. I even looked around to make sure they weren't filming an episode of the "Romper Room."
When we were seated our waitress politely came over to introduce herself. As she spoke I saw her braces and that was about the only thing that could draw me away from her hair. I mean this girl's hair looked like it was fixed for prom with each individual hair curled perfectly on her head. She used so much hairspray that if she were to walk out into hurricane-force winds, not one hair on her head would move.
She took our drink orders and left me to look at the rest of the employees. At that moment a busboy walked by that looked like he was just out of diapers. You think I'm kidding but I was sure I saw a pacifier hanging off of his neck. And this little boy was a worker. He could clear a table quicker than anyone I've seen, not to mention it was effortless. If I moved that fast I would have to sit down between tables to catch my breath, but this little kid was going from table to table without even breathing hard.
My wife saw him too and she too asked how young I thought he was. She thought my just-out-of-diapers answer was a little young but he wasn't a day over 13, I promise you that. Then his buddy walked by and I started to wonder if they weren't a Cub Scout group trying to get some merit badge.
Then out came our food, carried by, well, another girl with braces. The two plates looked like they were almost too heavy for her to carry. Granted, they had a ton of food on them, but she was definitely laboring on the way to our table. And just like the rest she was very friendly and gracious when I helped her with my plate.
These kids may have been young, but they were pretty good at their jobs. We didn't have to repeat anything and the food was cooked well. Everyone was friendly and courteous and all in all it was a pleasant dinner. But then I shouldn't be surprised.
Little kids are always good for going to get things. I love when I see one of my little nephews. All I have to say is "Go get Uncle David a soda," and boom, the kid is back in record-time with a soda. If I say "Go make Uncle David a sandwich," minutes later I have an inedible concoction with little doe eyes staring at me until I eat it.
Kids are always eager to please their elders, at least until they hit puberty, so what better place for them than in restaurants. And I'm sure they work cheap. Give them a couple quarters at the end of the night to put in their piggy bank and the crying stops. If you could just get around those silly child labor laws.
Well, after our fine meal the check came, which I quickly gave to my wife. I was quick to make sure she left a nice tip for our waitress to make sure she had plenty of money of pay for all of those bottles of hair spray she apparently used. Then we left the "Romper Room Restaurant." Of course, maybe those kids really weren't that young and the older I get the younger people seem. Nah, that can't be it.