What Brand of Contacts ...
Before I left for work today, Tucker crawled into my lap to talk to me. He told me that he and Michael had talked about it and they were going to pray for me and for my customers today. They knew I was sad last night. I've decided that we're all in this together and I'm being pretty open with them about our budget, how much we need to pay our bills, how much we have in our account and so forth. They knew last night that it was a bad day.
So one of my first customers asked me, "What brand of contacts do you have?" Now, I don't wear contact lenses so my first thought honest to God was that she was asking me about networking, like she was trying to recruit me for network marketing. I think Network Marketing is a fantastic idea and more people should do it, but I was a little taken aback. Turns out that she really was talking about my eyes. She said she'd never seen blue that color before and she was just sure I must be wearing contacts. Nope, got 'em from my parents.
One of the trainers has been working in the same section with me for the past three shifts. She came to me today and said that she had been watching me and needed to talk with me and a manager about my performance on a couple things. Uh oh. So we went into the back while she hunted up the manager and I tried to figure out what I'd done wrong. 
When they came back, she started the list. It took me a second before it dawned on me what was going on. She wasn't listing things I'd done wrong. She was listing things I'd done "above and beyond."
I didn't think that anyone had noticed, and I wasn't doing it to be noticed anyway, I do it because it needs to be done, you know? But she'd not only noticed, she'd kept count. And for each thing on her list, the manager handed me a "Mimi's Buck" which is a little certificate that can be used to purchase items from the menu. When they were done - I had 35 Mimi's bucks and tears all over my face.
Yes. Today was a MUCH better day than yesterday. My friend figured it up for me last night and yesterday - even as bad as it was - I brought home a little over 13% of my total sales. Since I know that the average server at Mimi's makes between 15-20% regularly, I was slightly consoled. Even the cheapo people didn't manage to pull my numbers down THAT much.
Today - however - - today was that day that makes up for yesterday in spades. I had fantastic customers, easy to please and seemingly very happy with the service they received. (I even had one tip from a guest who wasn't at my table - she's my son's teacher and my friend and it was only the sad fact that she got there before I did that kept her from being able to be seated in my section. And I'm not counting her tip in the numbers that I'm about to report.) Today - my tips were 37% of my total sales. Yes, indeedy. LOL. I brought home MORE on a Monday than I did on a weekend day?!?!? How's that for getting some karmic balance?!?
Well, tonight I'm speaking blessings over the people who were in the restaurant today.
I deposited the amount that I needed to be able to write the check for my rent this afternoon so I don't owe any late fees. AND there was enough left over that I'm going to be able to do something else my kids have been praying for. Last Thursday, they brought home these "Summer Vacation" kits that have fun activities, art, science projects, workbooks with journaling and activity sheets. The kits are a lot like the kind of thing we did when we home schooled and they both wanted them. But, the things cost $29.99 each and I was not very hopeful that there would be enough income to allow that into the budget.
They told me on Friday they were going to pray, and last night when we were talking about my bad day, they both said, "Don't worry Mom. We've talked to God about it and we know that you're going to get the money tomorrow. I had the "God is not a slot machine, Baby." Talk with them and told them that sometimes the answer is "no." But they were both adamant that this wasn't one of those times. I just wrote the checks to cover their Summer Vacation kits and tucked them away in their respective backpacks.
And now I'm saying, "Boys, would you mind asking God for ..." because I'm thinking they might have a better handle on this prayer thing than I have.
In other news, there has been this ... secret in my family for 19 years. Well, not my whole family. My sister and my brother both knew, but I asked them not to say anything to my parents about the fact that 19 years ago this month, I was raped. It was a long time ago and for the most part, I think that I've adjusted and recovered and ... it hasn't messed up my life. But I knew 19 years ago that I didn't want my parents to know, and over the past two decades, there's never been a moment that made me think - okay, NOW I need to tell them.
Well, apparently over the weekend there was this little shindig at my parent's home. And for some reason the subject of me came up. And for some other reason, my Mom thought it was a good plan to start talking about how disappointed she was about a number of decisions that I've made in my life starting with a really big one 19 years ago.
See, at the time of the rape, my best friend was a guy. He and I worked together and hung out together, went on hikes, sat up late talking about philosophy, he teased me cause I drank herbal tea and I teased him cause he smoked pot. He taught me to make linguini with clam sauce and I taught him to make strawberry crepes. We were buds. After the rape, I didn't show up at work or call in. So on his lunch break, he came looking for me.
It would be fair to say that I was a mess when he found me. I really don't remember much of the details of that day, and even after 19 years, I don't want to remember. I remember him carrying me down a flight of stairs and thinking at the time that I was amazed that he could do that. I weighed a lot less then - maybe 120 pounds? But I kind of had the impression that he was the scrawny weakling type guy. I knew that no matter what he did to try to build muscles, he just could not gain weight. But that day, he picked me up like I was a feather and carried me down a long flight of stairs.
He put me in his car and drove me to my doctor's office. And then he picked me up again and carried me inside. I know that I didn't start crying until some time during the exam and he promised my doctor that he wouldn't leave me alone until they were confident that I could handle it.
He kept his word. More than kept his word. Two weeks later, he had made arrangements for a two bedroom apartment in my complex and we moved in together. I had the bedroom furthest from the door because that's what I needed to feel safe. And for the next six months, I didn't go to sleep until I knew that he was in his room with the door cracked a little so that if the other guy, the bad guy, ever came back - my friend would hear him and would protect me.
Well, things being what they are in terms of my Mom keeping tabs on her kids even from states away, it didn't take long until she put it together that I wasn't living alone anymore and she hit the roof. Actually, she gathered up my Dad and my brother and sister and drove all night to where I was living in order to preach some sense into me and take me back home to Arkansas where she could know for certain that I'd never do THAT kind of foolishness again.
She read to me from her Bible. All this stuff about honoring my parents. She read the 13th chapter of 1st Corinthians about the importance of love and demanded to know whether I was living up to that. Well, I told her that I probably wasn't the best judge of my own behavior, and that I'd trust God to sort it all out in the end. She finally gave up and went back to Arkansas without me. She didn't speak to me for the next 5? months. Every time I'd call home if she picked up the phone, once she heard my voice she wouldn't say anything, she'd just hand the phone to someone else.
Finally, my roommate decided that he'd had enough of that. So he called her one night and told her that she was in danger of doing something that she didn't really want to do. He told her that I had cried so much that he was afraid I was getting to the point that I'd never cry again because my heart was too scarred over to let anyone close enough to hurt me. Mom started talking to me again.
It was a long time before the talks became, comfortable. And come to think of it, we still don't have comfortable talks. But at least we talk and we've worked at a level of peace. The point of all this is that on Saturday, my Mom started talking about my poor judgment and how I have a history of making decisions that aren't well thought out and don't take anyone else's feelings into consideration. She used the fact that Duane and I lived together to illustrate her point.
My sister lost it.
She said, "Look, it's not my secret to tell, and I've kept it for a long time, but there's something else you need to know about why Terri made the decision she made all those years ago before you say anything else about her lack of regard for other people's feelings..."
She told my Mom about the rape. She told her about how worried I was about how upset Mom and Dad would be if they knew what had happened. She told Mom that I was willing for Mom to think badly of me rather than put them through the trauma that I was going through. Honestly, I think that Mom could have handled it, but my dad? I worried about him then and I worry about him now. 19 years ago, I thought it likely that if I'd told him, he'd have had a stroke. His health has not improved.
Okay, I'm not really over it, because I'm sitting here with tears in my eyes. I still wish that my parents didn't know. But Cheryl called me this afternoon and told me what she'd done and asked for my forgiveness.
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