COMPLAIN

I have always struggled with complainers. I know there are things to complain about. I accept that everyone does it and I am not an exception, but I’m talking about those who have nothing to say that does not include a complaint.

Ten of us went to dinner tonight. It was a very nice dinner prepared by a gourmet cook. It’s put on free of charge by a local church for anyone who needs a night out. This is the second time I’ve gone and the meal was equally as nice as the first. No one who works on this meal is paid. They are all volunteers from the church including the cook. The volunteers are not the same every week. For example, our waitress had just arrived and came right to our table. She was reading the menu as we were.

All this to set the stage. Our group sat at two different tables. One of our group invited her sister to join us. Most knew her and it was OK. She did not sit at my table.

Because of the set up, the system does not work smoothly or as efficiently as a working restaurant. Little things go wrong. For example. The tray our salads arrived on would only hold 6 bowls. One person waited for the second delivery. There was a mix up on the orders and therefore a brief wait for one of our group. The food was terrific and the personnel kind and helpful.

That was out table. The guests from “The Home” at the other table had our experience. But the invited sister was one unhappy camper. It started with the menu. The choices were fine. However, there were only two menus at the table and she let the hostess know she wanted a menu for each person. As kindly as possible the hostess said we only print two per table with the assumption that people could share. Everything here is on a shoestring. No matter, she demanded menus all around. When that did not happen, she apparently decided not to have a positive experience.

The food did not come fast enough. There was too much dressing on the salad. She didn’t like the soup and wanted the other choice. She got it but didn’t like that either. She chose the fajita. She makes a better fajita, she said. There were too many onions. She doesn‘t really care for onions. The drink choices were not to her liking. She settled for water and I guess was satisfied. There was a choice of four deserts. All four were ordered at their table so she saw them all. Too small. Not attractive enough. Did not appeal to the eye.

After we came back to “The Home” I asked our resident how her sister liked the meal. Fabulous! She just loved it. Eyes rolled from all directions.

This lady is mild compared to Hazel. She is the most negative, demanding person I have ever met. She had tasks for a maintenance man every time she saw him and she often sought him out. I spoke to her yesterday for the first time in several months. I prefer not to get caught alone. She had a phone call she wanted me to make. She doesn’t ask, she tells me what I should do. Many of you may enjoy that approach, but the hair on the back of my neck stands on end and I am immediately resistant. Actually, angry and refusing in my mind before the sentence is finished. OK, I knew I wouldn’t do it. I’m stubborn. Thankfully, she did not ask for a response. She just expected I would do her biding. I don’t know when she will figure out I ran away.

Like our maintenance man once said, “I just wish that one day she would wake up and decide to be happy.” I hope I’m here for that day.