I took on a freelance project for a school division south of Calgary recently and had enjoyed my time interviewing students and visiting schools. I checked into the hotel and asked around for a place to have dinner, deciding on a small locally owned Mexican restaurant. They brought my beer and I got a headstart on the next day’s work by going through the multitude of photos I had taken that day. Engaged students with promising futures, happy teachers and staff supporting their goals, and me grateful to feel part of it once again.
Seriously, it was pretty much the only stirrings of missing my career since I retired. School visits were always the favourite part and I was appreciative for the opportunity to feel that professional congruence again. That spark that lights a path of shared values and goals, everyone bringing their own speciality together at work toward a greater good. I’m sure I was smiling as I scrolled through the reams of photos I had taken. And it was only Day 1! What a joy.
Then the chef came to introduce himself and chat about his menu, applauding me for the choice I had made and that they were working on my dinner in the kitchen. Would I like one of his original spiced carrots to enjoy while my food was being prepared? It would be on the house since I was a guest to their town and his restaurant.
Well, could things feel any brighter?! I enjoyed his offering and then dug right in when my dinner appeared. It was partway through when I remembered to snap a photo of the plate to share with my daughter, and she texted back with envy as we joked back and forth while I ate.
Suddenly a new staff person appeared at the side of my table and spoke in a hushed voice. Hating to interrupt, she wanted to be sure I knew that someone had paid for my dinner and left an open tab in case I was going to order anything else. Oh, well, now you could knock me over with all the kindness. I insisted that she point out who this generous person was and a few minutes later I sauntered happily over to a table where a couple sat to thank them.
“Oh, I just felt so bad seeing you over there all by yourself,” the man stated, jumping up. “Don’t worry, we’ve all been there. Are you okay with a hug? Things will get better.”
I stood confused as he hugged me and patted my back comfortingly, my feelings of great joy evaporating. “I’m just in town for work,” I found myself explaining. “I am quite fine – happy, actually.”
“Yes, well, chin up,” he said before sitting back down.
I walked back to my table, going over in my mind all the things I had done since I first arrived. Had been pleased as I looked through the day’s work of photography, chatted with the chef, enjoyed a wonderful meal. What exactly did he think was going so wrong at my little table?
It’s that alone thing. It had been a while since I thought about how uncomfortable it made some people. Oh my, I had a strange impulse to head back over and justify myself. That I had plenty of friends and was busy and happy and didn’t he know the recent data that shows single senior women are the happiest demographic. The usual frustration had set in – the one that comes when people judge how you’re measuring up.
But I decided I wasn’t going to let a generous but misguided stranger ruin my evening, so I ordered a nice glass of wine while I looked at the dessert menu. It was his tab, after all, and I was going to let the day’s amazing positivity be my strongest memory.