DIARY: Ruminations, Occasional thoughts & happenings - as they arise
Sharon - September 2004
Most Sundays, over the past year or so, I go to the Ardglass
Golf Club for lunch, where I meet Gerry & Sally, my brother and his
wife. As a single fella age 71 and a bit it's a great relief not to have
to cook for myself.
Frequently we are served by Sharon, a delightful, witty waitress who looks upon
me with a very jaundiced
air.
For some reason she is suspicious of
me. I dunno why. Maybe it's the way I look at her - an old guy admiring
a fine young woman. She has a spry figure and a wit to match - and the
sparks fly between us; but I suspect that is true about her relations with all
her customers. She's that kind of girl.
A few weeks ago I caught her by the arm and said, "Sit
down. I want to come to an arrangement with you. If you promise not
to take me to Court for sexual harassment I will promise not to take action
against you for age discrimination!" She's in her mid-thirties I
would guess.
"OK," she says. "That's a deal!"
And off she speeds to attend to other diners.
That's OK then. We understand each other - until
a couple of weeks ago I went to the Club in the middle of the week, for a meal,
which I don't often do. I got the barman to phone down an order and was
sitting by myself in the empty plushness of the lounge when Sharon appeared with
my meal.
"Aw, Sharon. It's good to
see you," I says.
"It's a pleasure to serve
you," she replies.
"And I would like to serve
you," I said. The first thing that came into my head.
"Michael," she snapped, whites of the eyes showing,
"That's not a very nice thing to say!"
And she flounced out of the lounge.
"Jesus, Mick!" I said to him and myself,
"It was not a nice thing to say!" Sometimes, when you are trying
to be smart, you can get yourself into trouble - and this was what I was in..
I waited for Sharon to reappear, but by the time I had
finished eating there was no sign of her. "Aw well," I
meditated, "I just have to accept that I have dug a big hole for
myself!"
Then, as I was leaving, I bumped into Sharon at the head of
the stairs.
"Sharon, Sharon," I exclaimed. "I am
very sorry I said that! If I had a big bunch of flowers - and I described
in the air how big a bunch of flowers it would be - I would give them to you
right now."
"You can send them to me!" she snapped, and went on
about her business.
"Lordy, Lordy! I am in trouble," I thought,
as I clumped down the stairs to the club exit. "Lordy, Lordy! I am in
trouble," I repeated as I trundled up to my old banger in the car park,
under a leaden sky.
Later that week, in Downpatrick with son Conor, buying a few
odds and ends in preparation for him going to Dundee - the University - I
excused myself and went in search of a florist.
"I want a fine big bunch of flowers sent to Sharon next
Saturday, at Ardglass Golf Club."
"She works in the Club?" asked the girl.
"Yes," I said - and I want to send a card.
"It's only a wee joke," I added, for she was
looking with a half smile on her lips, at this old guy buying flowers for a
woman.
I choose a plain card and wrote:
"Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!
I should not have said
I would like to serve you.
I should have said I would
be delighted!
- Michael 
I sealed the card in an envelope and skipped back to the car. I then
fled to Scotland!
A week or two later I went into the club!
"You're barred," snapped Sharon.
Oh God! How can I get out of this? I dunno. I'm done for. I
suppose she'll forgive me sometime!
Another week passed, and I was in the club having a meal with my son Raymond,
his lady Audrey, and their beautiful little daughter, Maya.
"Sharon," I said, "This is my son
Raymond."
She leaned over, shook his hand firmly, and said, "Sorry
for your trouble."
Looks like I'm not going to win this one!!