Lessons Learned on Block Island

In the fall of 2020, Dickinson College announced that all classes would be online, that learning would be virtual. Charlotte decided that rather than learning virtually she would spend the year on Block Island volunteering in the public school system. The school was more than happy to have her. Due to Covid, more summer families elected to stay on the island for the year, and as a result class sizes doubled. Charlotte spent the year working with a teacher in the first-grade classroom, ultimately leading the classes when the teacher was out.

To make ends meet, Charlotte took on other jobs. During the fall, winter, and spring, those jobs included housekeeping at an inn and working at the Cracked Mug, a local coffee shop. When summer came, she picked up a waitressing job at The Yellow Kittens, a Mexican restaurant and bar.

Charlotte learned a lot over the course of her year. Some of the lessons in the classroom helped her at her other jobs. Some that she learned at her other jobs will help her in the classroom.

Two lessons resonate.

Sometimes you need a little help – and that is OK.

Charlotte is waiting tables during the dinner shift when she notices Raffi at the far end bar. They make eye contact but Charlotte quickly busies herself with checking on her tables, grabbing drink orders and distributing plates of quesadillas, burritos, and nachos – so many plates of nachos. But Charlotte can feel Raffi's eyes on her, watching her, not staring, but paying too much attention.

Kate notices Raffi too. At the waitress station, Kate catches Charlotte.

“Raffi seems to be tracking you.”

“Yeah, It’s a little creepy, but whatever.”

“Haven’t you sent him a message , like, ‘No thanks’?”

“Yep.”

A week ago, Raffi came into the Mug where Charlotte works as a barista, and after ordering, Raffi lingered. Raffi was a regular. A nice-enough guy, 30s, maybe 40, scraggly hair that he controlled with a sun-faded baseball cap, and a beard that could use some trimming. He looked like he’d just come off the water though in fact he worked at one of the other restaurants on the island.

When he asked Charlotte if she wanted to go on a date, she declined. “Oh, that’s nice of you but I have a boyfriend,” the line used by countless women and one that their hopeful suitors have heard as code for anything from “I have a boyfriend” to “I’d rather spend the evening flossing my teeth.”

Raffi didn’t get the message, and Charlotte heard from another waitresses that he had asked for Charlotte’s cell phone number. Again, no luck for Raffi. Now Raffi is showing up at Kittens.

“Okay,” Kate says “I got this.” Kate goes into the kitchen as Charlotte heads to a table with a tray of beer and another plate of nachos. Raffi tracks her path.

Kittens is a small place, with the swinging door to the kitchen at the end of the bar, right next to the waitress station. Cramped space. On a busy night like tonight, the narrow access is like the entrance to a beehive with food coming out, drinks being picked up, dirty dishes going in. Waitresses and bus staff speed-walk and out. So when TC comes out of the kitchen and stands at the waitress station, people notice.

TC is a big man. TC stands for The Chef, because, well, he is the chef. But no one calls him that and Charlotte doesn’t even know his real name. TC is barrel-chested and wide. He stands an easy foot taller than most of the waitresses and a few inches taller than most men. He is a presence.

TC walks slowly to the end of the bar at the threshold of the dining area. Staff coming and going have to side-step around him. He is clearly clogging a main artery of the restaurant and he clearly does not care. He places his paw of a hand on the end of the bar, his other hand on his hip, his elbow extending further into the waitress’s path. TC spots Charlotte at one of the tables and watches her for a moment as she clarifies a menu question: “Yes, the spicy nachos are really quite spicy.” Then in one uninterrupted motion, he turns to Raffi who is already looking back at TC.

TC holds Raffi’s gaze for a few seconds. There is no smile. There are no words. Not even a nod. The two men stare at each other for a tense moment, then Raffi sips his beer, spins away from TC, and puts his elbows on the bar. As TC returns to the kitchen, Raffi reaches for his wallet to settle his tab.

Establish the rules early – control the troublemaker.

It’s July 3rd and the island is hopping. Race week is in full swing, and with the influx of day trippers, town is packed with all shapes and sizes of sun seekers, beachgoers and boaters. Every restaurant is full, and lines form on the sidewalk with couples, families, and groups waiting for seats. Wait staff do their best to turn tables and make sure everyone gets a meal, but it is a struggle.

The restaurants in town all share an unwritten rule: if you want to sit at a table, you have to order food - not just chips and dip, not just nachos - food, a meal. Restaurants do not make money and families do not get fed if people take a table and then linger for hours over a warming beer. So at every restaurant the host or hostess says the same thing – if you want a table we expect you’ll order food.

Kittens is no different, so when Charlotte approaches the table of twelve, she passes menus, but for some reason she can tell this group might be trouble. A half-dozen couples, mid 30s, maybe 40s, sun-drenched and loud. They probably opened the first can of hard seltzer at around ten and have been throwing them back since. It is now mid-afternoon and most of the party would self-identify as comfortably buzzed; the rest are beyond that point. The women wear bathing suits they might have gotten away with in their 20s but years and pounds have taken their toll. Thankfully, most wear some form of sundress. The men are not much better in a various assortment of t-shirts and tank tops, baseball hats (backwards) or visors. All of them are red-faced, sunburned, and quite full of themselves.

In her head, Charlotte predicts the orders – White Claw or Chardonnay for the ladies, Bud Light for the guys – and the group does not disappoint.

“Great, I’ll be right back with the drinks and I’ll take your orders for the food.” Charlotte smiles at the group, noticing that none of them have looked at their menus and a few of them have started a pile of menus at the center of the table. She notices the woman closest to her smiling to a friend. Oh boy, Charlotte thinks, here we go.

Charlotte returns and distributes the drinks to the women, the beer to the men, and stands at the head of the table next to the woman who she has figured to be the ringleader of the group, the Alpha (fe)male as it were.

“Okay, what can I get you to eat?” she asks the woman pleasantly.

“Oh, we’re just having drinks,” the woman says, smiling back at Charlotte.

Charlotte can almost hear the woman saying “Now you just go away and leave us alone, honey, we’ll flag you down when we need another round.”

Charlotte returns an insincere smile.

“I’m sure the hostess explained that because it is so busy and so many people want a meal that if you are at a table you have to order food. But if you would like I can check with the manager to see if he’ll make an exception.”

The woman pauses, turns to the woman seated across from her, and then back to Charlotte. She takes a menu from those piled at the center of the table at flips to the back page.

“We’ll share the Kid’s Quesadilla.”

“I’m sorry,” Charlotte says, “but the kids’ menu is for children 12 and under.”

“I’m 12,” the woman says flatly. The women within earshot are now watching to see what Charlotte will do. The men at the end of the table sense something is up. They stop talking and wait.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Charlotte says, reaching for the woman’s wine glass. “Then I can’t serve you this if you are a minor.”

The woman slaps her hand down, wrapping her fingers around the stem of the wine glass. The table is silent. All eyes are on Charlotte and the woman.

Charlotte smiles at the woman and says “Great, then I’ll put you in for large quesadilla.”

As the men reach for menus, Charlotte turns the to woman seated across the table. “And what will you have?”