In the early 1990s, The Oak Room Restaurant at Duke University was an oasis of good food mixed with good times. As the only “fine dining” option on campus, it was also one of the only spots left that allowed students to purchase alcohol on their (parent’s!) meal plan. A bonus for the undergraduates! Birthdays. Formal dates. Special occasions. The Oak Room never disappointed!
And for three years, I had the honor of serving as a waiter inside its hallowed mahogany halls. The employees were a melting pot of socio-economic backgrounds, deftly mixing in the undergraduate wait staff with the local Durham food staff. But once you put on the green apron and stepped into the kitchen, everyone was family.
But there was one issue that could cast a pall over the upbeat atmosphere: the tipping of the wait staff. Typically, the undergrads didn’t carry a lot of cash with them so a $5 tip was VERY generous. Most of the time, we could expect crumpled-up dollar bills straight from the sock drawer or even quarters from leftover laundry money. And sometimes, there would be no tip at all as students tended to write slips of paper with “IOU”. There were rarely any hard feelings as we were all in the same boat.
But one night my junior year was different from the rest. I waited on a big table of guys who clearly had been “pre-gaming” prior to getting a gourmet meal at the Oak Room. They were loud and generally disruptive. But, with the help of all the staff, we kept them in line and got them through the meal without incident. When I went to pick up the check, I was hoping for a little something extra for the aggravation. Instead, I received a single penny as tip! This wasn’t an oversight. This wasn’t a situation where they didn’t have the money. This was a giant FU carved prominently into the center of the table. Message received!
When I went back into the kitchen, I couldn’t control my frustration. Our head cook, Mr. James, who served as the patriarch of the Oak Room Family, noticed right away.
“What’s the problem, my man?”
“You remember that obnoxious table out there? THIS is my tip!”
I held up the single penny and Mr. James’ eyes narrowed. He immediately ripped off his hat and hauled all of his 250 pounds of muscle over the counter.
“Let’s go have a word with them.”
I followed a few paces behind Mr. James as he caught up with the group just outside the restaurant. The students sobered up quickly as Mr. James leaned into the biggest one.
“I think you boys forgot something!”
The students all assumed he was talking about the tip and each shakily held out a five dollar bill. Mr. James dismissed them.
“Keep your money. You forgot to say thank you to my man here.”
Crickets.
“Well…”
After what seemed an eternity, the biggest student stammered out a barely audible thank you.
Mr. James smiled as wide as an Oak Room Belgian Waffle.
“That’s better.”
And then his smile disappeared as he fixed his icy gaze back on the poor tippers, and pointed back toward me.
“THIS IS MY GUY. Do you understand? I don’t want to see your faces inside our place again.”
They understood. And we never saw them in the Oak Room again.
Mr. James had no vested interest in the outcome of my tip. That had no bearing on the cook’s job. But he wasn’t afraid to stand up for what was right. And he understood the power of respect and having someone’s back. And couldn’t we all use more of that in this ever-shifting world?
Who Has Your Back?
We all have moments when it feels like our pot will boil over. A bad loss. An unfair bounce. A series of injustices. Things seem stacked against us. In times like these, we try to stay resilient. We search for the positives. We vow to move forward. But sometimes it feels so isolating. It feels as though we are the only ones struggling and no one is in our corner. And that is the moment when our reservoir of resilience runs low.
Resilience is not always something we can muster on our own. There are times when we need to know that someone has our back. That someone cares. That someone will fight for us even when they don’t have a dog in that particular fight. Small gestures of solidarity and expressions of concern carry a lot more weight during these difficult times. And that type of comradery and empathy is exactly what we all need to refill our reservoir of resilience.
Make Your Corner of the World a Little Better
And it cuts both ways. We have to recognize when someone else in our circle is feeling low. And stand up for them even when it is not popular. Even when we are tired and it is easy to take the path of least resistance. Even when doing so won’t directly benefit us. Because the smallest expression of protection and care can unlock a chain reaction of resilience in our small corner of the world. And that is good for everyone.
Thank you, Mr. James. For having my back. And for turning that copper penny into pure gold.