I try really hard not to judge people.

If studying in Paris taught me anything, it was that. I walked into that city buying “haute couture” from Abercrombie & Fitch, enjoying a fine dinner at Casa and thinking a night of culture was going downtown for the Santa lighting and Coney Island.

Let’s just say I stuck out a little.

Sort of like Eugene. The poor guy is probably super sweet but there’s just something about him. Maybe it’s the short-sleeve button-down Hawaiian shirts and thick glasses. It could be his gray hair swept over – not quite in a combover but almost. It could be his over-the-top enthusiasm for his dishes. He just creeps me out. Plain and simple.

I usually tense up when he comes in, anxious about having to serve him and listen to his incessant compliments, which, for the record, almost come off as flirting. But today, it was almost relief. Relief that someone a) came in; and b) that no matter what happened Friday night, people still love what I’m doing.

So I did my best to push aside my judgments and served him with charm. I refilled his coffee. I joked with him. I smiled. A lot.

I might not have done a lot of business but I did good business.