“Jessie, because you’re the new girl around here you’ll have to work table 13,” her coworker Mark told her as she put on her apron for her first day as a restaurant waitress.
As Jessie approached table 13, she observed an older man slouching and reading the menu.
Jessie was perplexed. “Why?”
Honey. Terrible. Prepare. Mark said, “Nobody enjoys serving him.”
Jessie asserted, “I can handle anything.”
She shouldn’t have ignored Mark’s words. Mr. Nolan was challenging.
He said, “Who are you?”
“I’m Jessie, what are you having today?” She replied cheerfully.
I drink the same stuff, and you guys always ask me. Tea. Not chilly or sweet. “Two lemon slices and a straw,” he growled.
“Perfect. “What’s for lunch?”
Yet. “Go grab my iced tea!” she demanded.
Jessie was shocked but requested iced tea. The man complained about a basic order. First too sweet, then too chilly. Lemon slices lacked juice. His paper straw was weak.
“We only have paper drinking straws now,” Jessie stated, trying not to become angry about the fourth glass she had made.
“A feeble, dumb generation. “Lasagna,” he replied, throwing the menu at her.
Jessie always smiled. That guy wouldn’t ruin her first day. The lasagna has many issues.
She served six more households after his order took so long. He did tip.
Jessie told Mark at night, “I should have listened.”
“Yeah. Sorry. He laughed.
Jessie refused to be demoralized by a client. For her kids. Her spouse worked overtime to support five children.
She returned to work to improve for them. Her mother volunteered to watch her younger children while she worked.
Jessie was exhausted and barely saw her boys at night. She vowed to play with her kids tomorrow as she fell asleep.
That failed. Because her angry customer made every day harder. Waitressing was harder than she remembered, but the tips were good.
She served grouchy old Mr. Nolan for years, impressing the employees with her manners.
He was patient and learned about her life. He was mostly like a toddler having a tantrum, but sometimes he was nearly polite and asked her about her life. Despite his complaints, he always left a 15% tip, which was wonderful.
One day, there was no money. Jessie found a key and a message instead of his usual payment and extra bills.
“Dear Jessie, thank you for enduring this grouchy old man for so long. I’m leaving for a hospice.
Key to my residence. Yours. I’ll provide you my lawyer’s card for official settlement. Goodbye. I didn’t mind my tea being too sweet. See? “It’s my time,” Jessie read aloud, astonished.
She was astonished. To contact him, he left his key, home address, and lawyer’s card. No way. Jessie pondered why he gave his house to a stranger. He’s related.
She asked the lawyer about that hospice so she could visit him and get answers. She saw Mr. Nolan’s thinness. It was clear in the restaurant, but she hadn’t noticed.
The grouchy old man repeated his note and told her it was true.
“Why? Jessie enquired about your kids.
“My kids detest me. They’ve been absent for years. You were the only person who ever smiled at me. Keep that house for your growing family. Huge. She said, “It’s for people like you who can be patient with old things.” Jessie cried.
She didn’t know when she liked Mr. Nolan, but the notion of never seeing him again was too much. Maybe she hated his death alone.
Jessie took her children to meet him that weekend, and the old guy smiled for the first time in years. That’s a thousand tips.
Jessie received the house a few weeks after Mr. Nolan died. His lawyer indicated his family didn’t want anything, therefore she got his entire estate. Her large family valued the magnificent mansion.
Her children loved having their own rooms, and Jessie and her husband had been promoted, improving their finances. In honor of Mr. Nolan, they volunteered at a senior care center.
Jessie focused on the worst-behaved elderly. They reminded her of the man who transformed her life because they were grouchy.