Table 33

Perhaps one of my favorite things about waiting tables is getting to be surrounded by love. From date nights, to all the dressed up couples that come in before prom. From anniversary celebrations, to a young man getting on his knee to propose in front of the whole family. From a woman storming out screaming “you cheater!”, to a couple yelling about divorce as you pour their water.

Yes, you read that correctly. Apparently divorce is not something done in private anymore, it has become more of a social event in order to keep one party from causing a scene… in theory. But I think most people would agree it’s hard not to cause a scene when your future ex-wife demands half of your money that she’s “never worked a day in her life for!”.

That’s exactly what happened late one night at table 33, located very centrally in the restaurant. This quarrell between a wealthy husband and wife in their late 50’s went on for hours progressively getting louder as it went. It began sounding like tiff as I refilled their drinks and brought their food. But passions heightened throughout the evening. It soon became clear, not only to me, but to the crowed of servers who “coincidentally” or “inconspicously” gathered closer, that the couple had been separated for a while and the issues of the husbands “lack of affection” and “emotional capacity” had been going on for quite some time.

Ironically, it was not the arguing that drew a crowd towards table 33… It was the wife’s exposed breast. Her top had been slipping off of her shoulder throughout the argument to reveal her black lace lingerie and horribly botched breast implants. I couldn’t bring myself to interrupt the altercation to inform her of the slip. And I’m sure her husband avoided mentioning it out of spite. On the other hand, speculation floated about that she knew all too well about her wardrobe malfunction (I mean, how could she not feel the breeze? Perhaps she had no feeling left in them.) and was simply trying to show her husband what he’d be missing out on.

I couldn’t help but feel awful for the poor husband, it was obvious that this public meet-up was not his idea and that he was deeply embarrassed. He made every attempt to save some face. He smiled at me every time I approached the table and properly thanked me before they left. The funny thing is I’m not the only one who has a story like this. A coworker of mine had one even worse. In her case, a woman slapped divorce papers down on an unsuspecting husband and proceeded to eat her salad as he cried at the table. Perhaps there’s something to this whole public divorce thing. But, if any of you are planning on serving up a side of divorce papers with your husband’s steak while you’re out tonight, please read these Do’s and Don’ts of Fighting in Public, and save your server a little bit of stress. Or at least tip well. thedatereport.com/…/the-dos-and-donts-of-fighting-in-public
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