There is nothing interesting going on in my life right now, other than my completely fascinating physics homework, so I thought I’d share the story of the craziest customer I’ve ever had.
Now I just want to start out by saying that I have had a lot of weird customers in the two years that I’ve been waitressing. I think the restaurant that I worked at just attracts weird people. It’s supposed to be a family restaurant, but it mostly brings in old couples and grizzly construction workers and fifty-something cat ladies reading romance novels.
However, this particular lady, who came in on a Tuesday night sometime in late May, seemed pretty normal when she walked through the door. She was wearing the kind of pants suit of someone who works in a sophisticated, officey environment, and she wasn’t clutching Fifty Shades of Grey or a photo album of her cats. She wasn’t very talkative though, so after the obligatory exchange about the weather, I took her order and left her alone.
It wasn’t until I took her plate away that things got weird. She ordered a coffee (not weird) then rifled around in her purse for a minute (not weird) and pulled out a deck of tarot cards (WEIRD!!!!). I stared at her in fascination through the window of the kitchen as she shuffled the cards slowly. As she shuffled, she began to mutter to herself. I crept closer to listen, but as far as I could tell she was just whispering nonsense words.
Then, she began flipping the cards onto the table one by one. She was clearly doing it in some sort of pattern, but I couldn’t see any real order to it. The muttering got louder, still meaningless. And then-all at once-she stared at the dozen or so cards laid out on the table and began to wail.
I’m not exaggerating here at all. Tears were streaming down her face and she was full on bawling as she sat there in the booth. It’s a good thing there was no one else in the restaurant because it was late, but I doubt she would have cared if there was. She cried for at least a full five minutes continuously. I decided against bringing her the coffee.
Finally, after her sobs had calmed down, she went up to the front to pay. Her face was red and tear streaked, and she was actually visibly shaking. I didn’t know what to say. They don’t really cover the crazy-tarot-lady scenario in waitress training.
“Are you okay?” I finally asked.
“Oh yes,” she replied. “That was just”-she looked off in the space over my shoulder dramatically-“a lot to take in.”
I told her to have a good evening, and then I locked up for the night. I raised my eyebrows when I looked at the receipt from her payment. Say what you want about crazy people, but they sure tip well.