It’s a slow, weekday afternoon. I didn’t ask for the check. But the waitress drops it anyway and says “Just dropping this, but don’t worry, you can stay as long as you want and if you want to order more we can just add to it.“
If all that’s the case, I wonder, why drop the check at all? It’s not like her shift it ending. Is she bored? Does she think it’s helpful? Does she think I don’t know how much I’ve spent so far? Is it some sort of policy? I want to ask her but it’s just not in our script. I suppose I could go off-book, develop a deeper rapport with her, but I’ve never veered much from the upbeat rhythm of our usual exchange and my gut tells me that even in my most innocently curious tone, the question will come off as a passive-aggressive, observation-charged criticism, or even an attack, maybe not right away, but certainly later, as she is walking away from my table reflecting on the deficiency of her knee-jerk response that I blindly accepted instead of asking one of the followup questions I’d inevitably have. Confused as to why I so quickly reverted to the quick and simple, back-and-forth of our usual banter after disrupting it to ask such a direct yet open-ended question, she’ll feel judged. Attacked. Insecure. Stupid. When really, I didn’t mean to put her on the spot. I was just wondering the answer to a question that, after asking it, I realized I really don’t need the answer to.
So after the waitress finishes her polite disclaimer and backs away from the check that she laid gently on my table, I lock eyes with her and say all that I can say: “Great! Thank you so much!”
She smiles back at me and replies: “You are oh so very welcome.”