Write about an occasion when you just could not stop laughing
at an inappropriate moment
Balancing the glassware on the circular tray, I struggled to keep my balance and to arrange the glasses on the pressed and pristine white tablecloth. Only after the last glass was placed did I dare release my breath.
"Alright, that is not too bad, though you should probably take care not to load your tray with too many dishes this evening. As always, remember, if you break it, you will pay for it," warned my manager.
With those ominous words, I was deemed worthy to serve for the first time at the restaurant.
My application for the post of being a waiter in an Italian restaurant was a lark. The rigorous training came as a surprise. It involved memorising endless terms and details of the items on menu. Yet by far, the pinnacle of the learning process proved to be navigating with a full tray without tripping or spilling. Anticipation for the evening's duties grew as the polish clientele strolled in, were ushered to and seated at their respective tables.
As the evening went on, I fell into the rhythm of things, serving a number of tables successfully. The kitchen was a hubbub of activities, where the dishes were expertly prepared. In contrast, the dining area was an oasis of equanimity. With more platters on my tray, I felt the weight beginning to put a strain on my wrist. Braving the pain with a tight smile, I approached the nearest table to be served.
Mr. Dickens, a regular customer, was in a cosy conversation with his latest female companion. He had to be seated in an obscure corner, since his unsuspecting missus had made a dinner appointment with her friends on the same evening. I shook my head thinking about it.
Without warning, the dishes started to slide slightly forward. Trying to stay in control, I stopped in my tracks. As if in slow motion, I felt the tray slipping out of my grip. Teetering, I grabbed the nearest object to stabilise myself, yet the tray inevitably tipped over. "Crash!" The sound reverberated through the whole restaurant. Thankfully there did not seem to be any injuries. Before I could apologise, I realised that in the confusion, I had Mr. Dickens' wig! His shiny pate was uncovered. I was thrown into fits of laughter at the sight of his bald head. In fact, I was so amused by the whole situation that tears streamed down my cheeks. I tried to stop my laughter, but it seemed my body had a mind of its own. I let out a chortle and quickly regretted laughing, while trying to regain my composure.
"What kind of service is this?! I demand to see the manager!" his voice boomed, filled with rage and his face had turned into the colour of molten lava. His dining partner was trying to stifle her giggles at the sight of his scalp.
Before I could scurry away, another lady stormed past me, landing an ear-splitting slap on Mr. Dickens' face.
"So this is what you meant by being busy with work!" Mrs. Dickens threw the question at him, ignored everyone's stares before exiting the restaurant.
Paralysed, I stood there, steeped in mortification. Mr. Dickens, now an absolute tornado of mixed emotions, apologised to the other lady. Muttering curses at the general public and me, he left in pursuit of his wife. The other lady, blushing by then, left accordingly as if following stage directions.
With the colourful characters having taken their leave, the restaurant's entire attention was affixed upon me. My manager, ever phlegmatic in the face of disasters, was caught off-guard by the scene that unfolded before him. After he recovered, he ordered the clean-up and the staff to resume their duties. Soon, business as the restaurant continued as usual.
I was given the rest of the evening off by my manager, who was too swamped by work to discuss the matter. Was I to be fired or forgiven? As I walked away from the restaurant, I contemplated my uncertain future miserably.
By Terry Tan, Class 4E1
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