Melissa Littlejohn works at Rise & Shine. I’ve already posted blogs about the restaurant itself and the people who run it, as well as about Misty Adams, one of the waitresses.
Melissa love to wear T-shirts with messages on them like this one. Although it says “I’m So Bad I’m Good,” I can’t imagine her ever being very bad. Her Christianity shines through her attitude and behavior.
The first thing I noticed about Melissa, well, other than the fact she’s very pretty, was her response when I thanked her for pouring coffee or bringing my order or whatever. Instead of “No problem,” which many people says nowadays when you thank them—as if I’d said it was a problem—or the traditional “You’re welcome,” as people with better manners would say, she would say, “It’s my pleasure.”
Now, how warm is that? It’s as if she were saying “You’ve made my day better by allowing me to serve you.” I don’t know about you, but I don’t get that reaction very often, even from waitresses, clerks and other who I know like me. That really impressed me.
Melissa has waited tables for over twenty years, the last year and a half at Rise & Shine. I would guess in that twenty years she’s left behind her a host of people who were glad she waited on them.
She is divorced and has four children. She claims the oldest ones are 26, 21, and 20, although she doesn’t look over 35 herself. She also has a 12 year-old who lives with her. The others are grown and out on their own.
Like others I’ve interviewed, she says what she likes best about her job is the customers. That shows through in everything she does as she works.
Also like several others, she listed rolling the silverware in napkins as her least favorite part of the job. I think I’d get a little tired of that myself.
She lists working out, cooking, gardening and puzzles among her hobbies. I guess the working out is part of why she looks too young to have a 26 year-old child.
When I asked Melissa if there was anything else of interest I might mention, she said she was a trauma survivor. She wouldn’t tell me what the trauma was, and I decided it was probably too personal for me to be nosy about it. She also mentioned that she might go back to school. If she does, I hope she can move into a better paying position, but I’ll miss her if she leaves the restaurant.
How many waitresses, cashiers and others who serve you do you know anything about? What do you do to let them know you care about them as individual human beings? Readers want to know.
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