What Ever Happened to "Happy for You"?

I was a waitress for seven years. It was a tragically bittersweet job that ushered me through many stages of my life. What started as a part-time job that I stumbled into by chance eventually evolved into a lifestyle, slowly transitioned into a means to an end, and eventually died a slow death and was ultimately put out of its excruciating misery- this time (here's hoping) for good.


During my tenure as an under-appreciated and under-paid servant to the masses I learned countless valuable life lessons. For starters, I could multi-task in the Olympics. I would win too because all the judges would get their self-righteous butts kissed with a sincerity that only a seasoned waitress knows how to fake. But above all things I learned doing this job I discovered that no matter the amount of utterly ridiculous behavior I've witnessed from guests in my restaurants, no matter how many times my jaw has dropped to the floor, the general public that I served never ever ceased to surprise me. Even on my last day as a waitress I guarantee there was something some random patron did that made my eyes widen and rendered me speechless at their complete audacity.


I say this to you, dear reader, because I have have found this particular life lesson carries over quite seamlessly to my married life as well. As you may have read in my previous post, family members have really breached about eight different kinds of personal boundaries when poking for information about Brandon's and my life plans. I don't know if these kinds of comments arise in the worlds of other married couples- maybe it's just us. Either way, I continue to find myself shocked and appalled by the comments people have deemed acceptable to say to my face. However, I have my seven year career as a hardened waitress to thank for my ability to take every last one of these comments with grace, dignity, and sometimes strategic wit.


I rarely accompany Brandon to events that involve his close-knit group of friends. Much of this has to do with the fact that since our move to farm country I have become somewhat of a  contented homebody. I also do not like to make a habit of encroaching on "Guy Time". Only one of Brandon's friends is married, two are products of recently failed marriages (but we'll discuss them later), two or three others have quasi-serious girlfriends, and the rest are steadfastly single. So where does this leave me? Quite often I am there purely for decoration, perched on a bar stool sipping a glass of Merlot, silently pretending to be listening intently to a conversation about fantasy football line-ups or Call of Duty strategies. No thanks.


This past weekend, however, I decided that I would make a cameo appearance. One of the guys was hosting his annual Memorial Day cookout. It was a comfortable mix of friends of Brandon that I could hold quality conversation with and total strangers. I have never been made to feel left out among Brandon's group, they are truly great guys and a lot of fun. But let's face it, they've all been close since childhood and I will forever be marked as "Brandon's wife". I'm somewhat of an alien life form to these guys. They're all perfectly pleasant and sweet to me, but I frequently get the sense that they can't quite figure out how to relate to me. There seems to be a hovering sense of hesitation around many of the conversations I have with some of Brandon's closest friends. It's almost like they still don't fully trust me or they are reluctant to absorb me completely into their circle because part of them still suspects I may not be a permanent fixture. While reading this you may chalk this analysis up to paranoid delusions, however, I urge you to withhold judgement until you find out how this was confirmed for me.


Brandon and I were standing among a group of miscellaneous friends and acquaintances sipping on bottles of beer and trying not to melt in the hot sun. One of Brandon's recently divorced friends that I mentioned earlier, I'll call him Scott, approached the group. I still can't quite remember how the subject arose but all of a sudden Brandon and I found our marriage in the social spotlight once again.
"Don't ever get married!" Scott exclaimed to Brandon, gesturing emphatically with his beer-holding hand. "Oh, wait," he continued sarcastically, "too late!"
We all had a half-hearted laugh and I was secretly hoping the line of conversation would drop dead right then and there. No such luck.
"It's cool," Scott looked to me. "You're great now, but around year two or three you will turn into a c***, you will cheat on him, and you will leave him."
OK, Scott. Thanks for the heads up.


Here's where that grace and dignity I also mentioned earlier had to come in. I laughed with only the slightest hint of discomfort and suppressed my urge to punch him because I realized several things in that moment. I recognized that Scott was clearly joking around with us, even though there was a glimmer of austerity behind his statement. I also was able to take the unbelievably abhorrent use of the c-word in stride because after four years of spending Saturday nights drinking with twenty-something single guys I have diminished my reaction to that word to a minimal cringe at its use. And lastly, I acknowledged the fact that what he described I would unavoidably do to Brandon is exactly what Scott's wife did to him. So after taking all this into consideration in about three seconds, I decided to laugh it off, smile at Scott, and attempt some witty banter.
"So I guess I should just give up now and get it over with, huh?" I shot back with a sly grin.


You could almost see the cloud of tension lift off the group. I didn't realize until that moment that it seemed as though everyone had been waiting for my reaction. I suspect that they all were expecting me to punch Scott. And, in retrospect, he probably would have deserved it. I mean, you can't just say that kind of thing! But that wouldn't have been very helpful to anyone.


So, thank you, seven outrageous years of waitressing, for teaching me that people are always going to surprise you with their inappropriate behavior. And, most importantly, for teaching me that when someone shocks me with their new heights of disrespect and insolence it's best to take it in stride, respond with grace and dignity, and then complain about it on your blog later.