In Defense of Immaturity (or "how childishness can save us all")

Yesterday was one of those days...

You take a car into the shop because some light flashed on. Three hours later what you hoped was a leak of a somethingorother turns out to be a few hundred bucks drained into a automobile that has shown a rampant proclivity for disappointing you recently at every conceivable turn.

My minivan was supposed to be faithful... and she broke my heart yet again.

All this news came to me right as I was starting my shift at work. I was crestfallen. Add to that a half hour where my station was virtually unseatable and you have the makings of an Eeyore from Whinny the Pooh kind of day ("I guess I'll never have any money again..."). This was going to be a day where money bled out, but there wasn't going to be much coming back in.

Then my manager tells me she is giving me a party of twelve. Cool. As long as they don't have tattoos on their necks (like my party from the other night had) I should get a half decent tip from a big party.

No one comes....

The table is flagged and ready to go, but no one comes. The desolate wasteland that is my station continues to be barren.

Then noise. I look to the front to see ten young girls, aged ten... maybe 12, I'm horrible at approximating peoples' ages, are in the lobby with matching green t-shirts (an unforgivable neon green that would be considered even a bit obtuse at a party that featured black-lights), tiaras, and those strange faux scarf things that look to be made from the feathers of brightly colored alien birds (said feathers covered the floor upon their entrance and exit). Happy doesn't do it justice. Even standing the distance of the restaurant away from the girls I could see that they were beaming. Joy emitted from their eyes as they talked at high speeds over one another. Two women stood amongst them, cautious smiles on their faces as they looked over the ten girls, never sure what to expect or how to respond to any of the indecipherable noise they were being bathed in.

"Lord help me..." The words fell from my lips as the reality set in that this could be none other than the party I had been waiting for. Laughter soon followed as I wondered out loud how I was going to handle this table under the circumstances. I knew I could handle it, I also knew that if I did handle it then I would be laughed at by each of my coworkers and mocked openly as I shamelessly schmoozed them. A man has to make his money so I rallied myself and prepared for the onslaught of jokes that would come my way as the one male server took care of a party of twelve females.

Truthfully I also knew there was a good chance this would be the most fun I would have at work all week. I like kids and rarely get a chance to have them in my station, my restaurant generally attracts people a bit north of twelve, so kids (read: people who aren't enjoying their retirement) are a good twist to the day (not that I don't like retirees, its just nice having some variety). On a cerebral level I appreciate children for all the things that differentiate them from adults, on a sophomoric level that I am not too ashamed to indulge in I just think being childlike is fun and who better to be immature with than those who have not yet reached a capacity for maturity.

So I set to work. They were the winners of a girl-scout cookie selling competition. They won a limo ride, free lunch, and they were all going to get their nails did. I gave each of them new names: T.L.D., Aristotle, Gloves, Shades, Tiara, Soso, Rebel, Channy, Bling, and Rose. Each name was given for a specific reason, some required long explanations others were pretty simple (Shades because she wore sunglasses inside... that kind of thing). We talked about selling cookies, and joked about their names. They called me Tyty, which I allowed in this special circumstance. I talked to the moms, giving my emotional support to them for their long day (when I told them I was taking 20 kids to Magic Mountain the next day they began to feel less sorry for themselves and were just glad they weren't me).

The whole thing was hilarious and was easily the most fun I will have with a table this month, maybe year. At the end of the meal they asked me to take a bunch of pictures with them (something I have never done with sober guests in my seven year career of waiting tables) and they all said "thank you Tyty" loud enough for the whole back half of the restaurant to hear it. Of course I blushed and every girl I work with heard it and started laughing.

Mostly what followed was jokes and comments about the experience. People seemed shocked that I could have enjoyed myself that much. The truth is I tried to underplay how much fun I had to avoid being teased further.

But I like being around kids. I like making them laugh, teaching them, encouraging them, exposing myself to their joy that is unhindered by cynicism and self doubt, attempting to see the world as something big and exciting as they do. I like investing into them, but selfishly I gain something from time spent with them. Like some sort of adolescent osmosis I absorb some of their unrelenting optimism which balances with my own adult, all too cynical perspective on life.

I like being around them because I am jealous of them. I wish I could see the world like they do, I wish I could hope and love as unquestionably as they are able to. I wish with all my heart I could enjoy a limo ride around a silly town like Temecula without the question entering into my mind of "is this silly?" or "what do people think of me?" or "I wonder how much this next car repair will cost me." I want to enjoy each moment (or at least some moments) like children do, fully immersed in the experience.

The world of adults is great. I am not wishing to regress back to what I once was and I do not resent being an adult, that is a boring conversation I no longer have patience for. We are adults and we must exist in this world and not waste it pining over what isn't a reality. I like being an adult, taking care of myself, experiencing new things, accomplishing difficult tasks, finding success (in some sense or another), learning, questioning, frying chicken. I like my life. But I think their is a perspective youth have that we need to embrace and find joy in, letting go of social constraints and enjoying life for what it is, not being inhibited about outsider's judgments or ridicule. I don't want to be a child again, but I do want to take the best parts of childhood into adulthood with me, rather than leaving it all behind as some feel they must to successfully venture into the deeper waters. Spending time with kids reminds us of those simple things.

For a bit of contrast to this idea, when I was with finished getting the party in order I told the hosts that I was ready for another table and they could start seating the rest of my section. The host immediately brought a couple back to my table, and that couple immediately demanded they be sat somewhere else where the troublesome sound of kids having fun wouldn't disturb their lunch. The host explained that to me and I felt totally fine with it. I hope to be know at my restaurant as the guy who will take any table but I was fine with not having to take care of a table who couldn't enjoying being around kids who were getting to be kids. A room full of other adults seemed to function just fine. I'd rather be like those kids than like those two adults who were without patience for childishness. I did love the next couple the host brought over who spend the better part of their lunch laughing at the girls as they interacted and at me as I tried having some semblance of a functioning conversation with them.

Children aren't just the future, they are the marker to remind us of where we came from, before politics, debt, ambition, compromise, assimilation, disappointment, worry, and cynicism tried choking us out. Children need our protection, guidance, and care. But they have just as much to offer us; none of it will make us richer, cooler, more beautiful, or successful, but it will make life a lot more fun to live. And we can all use some more of that.


Thanks again to:
T.L.D.- Troupe Leader's Daughter, because she was, in fact, the daughter of the troupe leader.
Aristotle- The quietest of the girls, I thought perhaps she was more of a deep thinker.
Gloves- She had these gloves on... well they looked more like bright pink socks with finger holes cut out in them. Not all that creative but it worked.
Shades- She wore sunglasses inside, nothing too profound here.
Tiara- She had the biggest tiara on her head and its the first word that sprang to mind.
Soso- named Sophia, I was grasping at straws.
Rebel- The other girls all ordered rootbeer or fruit punch, always the individual she ordered Coke (I thought about naming her Kierkegaard or The Solitary Individual, but that would require too much explanation and out me as a totally unforgivable nerd... and so it goes).
Channy- Her name was Chandler. Again, grasping at straws.
Bling- She had a lot of fake jewelry on.
Rose- There was a giant rose on her head, this wasn't rocket science people!