Don't Go "POSTAL" on me!!

I was working a Saturday day shift...standing at the hostess stand chatting with the host, when the mailman came in the door with the mail. It was the middle of summer, it was about 100 degrees outside. The mailman came literally dripping into the front door of the restaurant...holding a bundle of mail for us. I of course was quick with my witty rendition , singing lightly.."WAIT A MINUTE MR. POSTMAN"!! His response was to stare at me like he was getting ready to pull out an M-16 and leave me in a puddle of blood that would be a lot more impressive than the sweat that he was drenched in, coming from every sweat gland that he had in his big ole body. He continued to stare at me, not saying ONE word. As the awkward silence seemed to last forever, I bantered back with a sweet "How are you doing today? It sure is hot out there, isn't it"? This once again got nothing but a stare, and I had the feeling that he was fixing to pull a missile launcher out of his bag and take me out right there in the lobby of the restaurant. So I just meekly replied...."I guess I will just mosey on now..nice to see you". I scurried away from the host stand...not daring to look over my shoulder into the barrel of a missile launcher. The host came up to me and told me I had another table, and I was grateful to have somewhere else to go. I went up the steps to my station of tables...and there he was...seated at my table....our "POSTAL" worker had decided to eat with us, and fate sat him at my table. I began by saying there would be no more singing from this point on, and what could I bring him? He said, as nicely as if he was Charles Manson coming in to eat " I want a cheeseburger, medium, no tomato...I repeat, NO TOMATO..do you have that part? I want a coke with a lot of ice ..I repeat a lot of ice...did you get that part"? I said that I certainly did, and began to give this "HAPPY" guy the best service that I could muster up...all the while shaking in my work shoes. The coke never got empty, the burger was served exactly right. He never got any happier acting with me, but he ended up leaving me a decent tip. A couple of months down the road, I had a man, his wife and their daughter at my table. I kept thinking "where do I know this guy from"? And then he ordered a cheeseburger with "no tomato"....and it struck me like a two by four in the forehead....IT WAS CHARLIE MANSON AGAIN!!!! I once again made sure that everything went as smooth as silk...another flawless meal!! Tonight, we were in a twenty minute wait, the manager told me there were three parties up front that wanted my table...how fast could I turn my tables? About that time, "CHARLIE" the mail man came stomping through the dining room and ran into me. He said "Can we get you to wait on us"? I was FLOORED!! I told him I had several people waiting on my tables, but if he asked a manager, he could request my section. He looked at me with his "DEATH" stare, and replied..."What's your name"? I told him to ask for Cotton..and he stomped back up to the lobby. I waited on him and his family again (another flawless performance....I AIN'T stupid)..and he left me an $11.00 tip on a forty dollar tab. Isn't it crazy how things happen...He Hated me when he met me, but now requests me when he comes in. So my lesson is this....maybe I am not the comedienne that I think I am, but obviously I am the server that I have spent thirty years becoming...and I suppose have succeeded at doing. Who would ever think this grumpy ole guy would ask for my table? It is an honor to have someone recognize my skills as a server (If not my skills as a singer or joker). That is my favorite thing about being a server...a good server. People might not want my singing or jokes, but it amazes me that they want ME to wait on them...and will wait for my table to come open. HEY!! I didn't go to college for NOTHING!!! Till next time....COTTON