As
a writer, I notice little things. I observe everything, and I’m curious about minutiae.
It’s the details that make the story, I think, and so it’s the details I pay
attention to the most.
For
example, I’ve noticed lately that whenever I ask for a glass of water at some
places, I don’t get it. My DH and I frequent certain restaurants, and there’s one
in particular where I have asked for water on several occasions. I get an
affirmative response, but…no water. Ever. So I’m left wondering: Are they
afraid the water will make me sick? Is there not enough water to go around? Are
they being passive aggressive? Are they saving water for a zombie apocalypse I don't know about? What is it with not getting my water?
I recently asked for water at another restaurant and didn’t get any there either. Is
there a shortage? I imagine the server just forgot, but there’s part of me that
feels like maybe, just maybe, there is an intentional conspiracy to deprive me
of simple liquid refreshment by certain food establishments. I get by because I just drink my DH's, but still...
I
realize there are some folks who order water and lemons and then try to use
sugar to make some kind of lemonade-ish concoction out of it and cheat the
owners out of $1.99. That’s not me. I don’t like lemonade, but I do like a
little lemon in my water. I’m not asking for it to save a buck. I’m asking for
water just because that’s my preferred drink of choice. I really don’t drink
soda or tea. I just like my water. Plain. Simple. Abundant. So where the hell
is it?
I
drink a lot of H2O because otherwise I get dried out. I don’t know why. Our bodies are mostly made of water, and experts recommend drinking a bunch of it a day (I
actually usually go over that amount). Studies have shown that most people are
walking around in some state of dehydration because they don’t drink enough
water. So why is my simple request so often denied?
I
can usually tell the servers who are good at their jobs, because they keep my
water glass filled. More often than not, water glasses of most people sit full
because they don’t drink any of it if it is served. I do, and I can tell the
servers who know what they are doing because the minute my water glass nears
empty, a pitcher appears from somewhere to refill it. I don’t expect this kind
of service, so it’s nice when it comes. I don’t mind asking for a water refill,
but if I ask and it never materializes, my inclination to tip a full 20% drops
drastically.
See
what I mean? Details. Who thinks about this stuff? Me. A writer. A writer who
is also a reader and feels like the details—the purple stuffed pony under the bed, the smiley
face tattoo, the soured milk in the fridge—make the story. It’s like the red
carnations in To Kill a Mockingbird,
the ones that represented Mayella Ewell’s hope for a better future that was
probably never going to materialize. A minute little piece of the very complex
human puzzle that makes the whole crazy, random thing make sense.
Have
you ever read or seen a story that at the end you think about days later
and go, “Holy crap, THAT’S what that meant”? Think about it. Think about a
story or poem you’ve read that had some little detail, something seemingly
insignificant, that gave a whole new meaning to the way the story was
interpreted. What was it? Please do share!
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