Sometimes the only way to fix it is to take it apart.

"If it isn't too much to ask, I'd like to have that without any dressing."

I sat and watched as this went on for fifteen minutes. She would bring exactly what he had asked for, and he would ever so politely make some slight modification that would force her to begin all over again. I was trying to decide if he was mentally unstable or just ornery. She clearly didn't care either way. No tip was worth this. I could see the cloud forming over her head, and I called her over. She later told me she was ready to explode at the first complaint I had, assuming that was why I called her. Instead I looked right into her eyes and told her that she was the most patient, kindest soul I had ever met, and seeing how she tirelessly dealt with "us customers" every day was inspiring. I'm not sure if it was my kind words, or maybe just the minute's reprieve. Maybe it was the large tip she spotted on my table, since I was getting ready to leave. No matter what it was, I saw the first genuine smile I had ever seen on her face. I glanced at her name tag.

"Good bye Elizabeth. I really hope you have an amazing night."

That was the first time I said her name, and as with everyone I meet it felt strange on my tongue. A name is at the same time so accessible, and yet so personal. I ended up going back there every Wednesday afternoon, and she even invited me to have dinner with her family, her husband and three boys, the next free weekend we both had. I never took her up on that dinner. The first time I met her husband was at the wake. He hugged me, and we both leaned on each other for just a moment. I'll never know what was going through his head, but I know in that moment, for no other reason than a kind word five years ago, we shared a moment that will be with me forever.