Is it always like this?

I was having lunch with Leah at the Reddington Restaurant in the Union the other day. There was a new girl working, a new bus girl. She was very small and looked very young. I guessed was she was still in high school. About halfway through our meal I heard something break directly behind me. I turned around as the tiny bus girl was frantically scrambling to clean up the mess of the plate she dropped. One of the waiters came over, helped her quickly pick up, and shooed her away. I went back to my salad and delicious green marshmallow fluff stuff.

I didn't think anything of the broken plate because, well, it was just a broken plate. I didn't think anything of it until about ten minutes later when there was a bigger, louder, closer crash. I turned around again and there she was, standing behind a huge grey cart piled high with dirty plates. In front of it was a pile of broken plates and spilled leftovers. She stood frozen as her coworkers rushed over with their dirty rags and annoyed looks.

They scooped the mess back onto her cart and scattered back to their important jobs of asking people how they are and filling half full water glasses.

I looked up at her as she walked slowly by me. Her face was red and she was staring stiffly at the floor. Tears ran down her face. As she managed to round the final corner and disappear into the back of the restaurant I could hear her choke back a cry.

My waitress came by and apologized to me for all the commotion.

Nobody went after the tiny bus girl.