Madeleine Berenson - Unexpected Grace

 

In 1978, when I was 19 years old, I waited tables at a quaint little bistro in Austin, Texas. It was very of an era, the kind of place where pretty young women in slinky leotards and wrap skirts worked lunches, and fastidious older men who knew about food and wine worked dinner shifts. The owner of the bistro was a 60-something, Mercedes-convertible-driving man named Bob. He had hired me that summer when I was a carefree freshman at the University of Texas. But by December, I had gotten pregnant, my boyfriend and I had broken up and I was the opposite of carefree. In fact, I had no idea what I was going to do. 

 

So, as a first step, I told Bob my situation and asked how it would affect my employment. And he said, "As long as you keep doing the job you're doing, it's fine." But then, a few weeks later, when I'd started having to loosen that slinky wrap skirt, Bob took me aside one day and asked when I intended to quit. And I said I thought at my sixth month and he freaked out and said, “Absolutely not,” that he thought it was understood I would leave as soon as I started showing, because he said, "I cannot have any unattractive people working for me here," and he gave me one month to find another job. 

 

So, I went home, called UT and dropped my classes, because college was just impossible now and then I cried a lot. The next week, my history professor called to find out why I had dropped his class. When I told him what had happened, he told me two very interesting things. One, that firing someone for being pregnant is illegal. And two, that his ex-wife was an attorney who would be thrilled to represent me. [audience cheers] 

 

And thus began Bob's five-month-long nightmare. [audience laughter] Because after key information was exchanged, Bob learned that not only could he not fire me, but now, since he had threatened to, he couldn't touch me with a 10-foot pole. Have you ever seen a pregnant woman strut? [audience laughter] It's funny looking, actually, unless you're Bob and then it's just revolting. But Bob's revulsion became an important source of strength for me, because it forced me to face what I feared most about becoming a young single mother, that I was unfit, incapable, shameful. 

 

And so, every day, I worked really hard to prove otherwise. I learned to filet Dover sole tableside and to skillfully remove plates. But most importantly, I learned that I was really good at taking care of people, even when it was hard, even when I didn't like them. I found a corrective grace in creating happiness and comfort for others. And it centered me. 

 

By the way, my customers loved that I was pregnant. They left me big tips and they brought baby gifts. In many ways that I have never forgotten, they told me that they wished me well. On my last shift, when I was eight and a half months pregnant, [chuckles] Bob sat in my section, ordered chicken crêpes and a bottle of Gewürztraminer and watched me until my last customer left. And then, he asked me to sit down. And with shaking hands, he told me that of all the people who had ever worked for him, a group that included philanderers, drug addicts and thieves, [audience laughter] he was happiest to see me go. [audience laughter] And I said, "What a mean thing to say," and I got up and left, because I would not let him see me cry. 

 

I didn't see Bob again for 13 years. And then, one night, when I was waiting tables in what was then the best restaurant in town, I had a private party scheduled in my section, a wine club. When they walked in, there was Bob among them. My heart skipped a beat. He looked much older, frail even and he didn't recognize me. I confess, there was a part of me that wanted to fix that right away by marching up to him and telling him who I was and telling him that my wonderful son was 13 now, and that we were well and happy, no thanks to him. But then, a better part of me came to the rescue.

 

From the moment I opened their first bottle of exquisite wine, I transformed into the most elegant, professional version of myself I have ever been. Like breath, like air, I was there before need was felt. Every gesture executed with invisible precision. No detail overlooked. I felt Bob's admiration for me growing throughout the evening and it fueled me further. And then, at the end of the night, as he was leaving, Bob took my hands in his, looked me in the eye and said, "I don't know who you are or where you came from, but you are absolutely the finest waiter I have ever had the honor of being served by in my entire life." And I said, "What a kind thing to say," and I smiled.