My (sometimes) High Maintenance Life

I am sometimes High Maintenance.  I am a girl.  I think most of us can be this way.  Occasionally.  Or, often.  Whatever.

I try to keep my high maintenanceness under control.  I am good at this. Sometimes.  Not as often as I'd like.

Like the other day.

I went to breakfast with some girlfriends last Sunday.  It was an eggs and bacon and biscuits&gravy and pancakes kind of place.  No eggs benedict. No frittatas.

We had a party of five.  The restaurant was not that busy.  There was no wait.  They seated us at the most awkward table.  It was situated between 2 benches.  One side of the bench could accommodate 2 people. The other side, 3.  But, the weird thing was that the table was incredibly long.  Like 10 feet long.  So, the 5th person would not be facing anyone.  It was like they would be eating at their own table with no one to talk with or look at.

I didn't want to sit at this weird, non-inclusive table.  I didn't want anyone to sit by themselves at the odd end.  I didn't want anyone to have to sit across from no one.  Weird.  Awkward. I hated it.



© Copyright
Ben Harris
licensed for reuse under this
Creative Commons License

So, I asked the host if we could sit at the other booth.  It was perfectly situated to allow us to sit near each other.  Everyone would be happier here.  I was certain of it.

Host:  "No, that's reserved".

Me:  "Really?"  "This exact table is reserved"?  "Well, is there somewhere else we can sit?" *snotty tone kicking in*

Host:  "No, you'd have to wait".

Waiting doesn't work for me.  Particularly when I am feeling high maintenance.  I was hungry. 


And, high maintenance.  We took the weird table.

10 minutes later a party of 2 was escorted to the table by the host.

Host: "It's so nice to see you again, Mary".

Mary wore a huge floppy hat and sunglasses.  Mary's perfectly manicured hand flaunted a diamond which was nearly 5 carats.  Mary was with her sweet adult son who likely just brought her from church. The waitress knew what Mary wanted. Mary was a regular.  Mary and son were served before our shared waitress took our order.  Mary's drink was always full.   I have a feeling Mary has a high maintenance side.

My motto from here on out:  Eat, Drink and (one day) Be Mary.