Looking around at the dining hall service workers, with their hats and hair nets and all, it seemed an unlikely group. Older gentlemen with gray and scraggly beards mixed with students just trying to make it through the day. Young and old, women and men, there were no common patterns but their uniforms. They acted as one unit, each following their predetermined pattern across the floors and occasionally stopping to chat amongst themselves.
It was an efficient system that kept the lines of hungry students at bay. Some stood lined up at the wall by the kitchen, drawn to the momentary sanctuary of the warm grill, still surveying the array of food. Others danced around the students, picking up trays, plates, wrappers and napkins and wiping down tables. Just a few would travel between stations with bins.
One of the older gentlemen was quiet, almost delicate. With the broom as his partner, he waltzed around the students in fluid but agile movements. He bowed his head but would nod to smile at you if you looked long enough. It was a friendly smile, a parental that says hello without words. He gave me a wink and moved along, wiping down tables and dodging the horde of people walking past. I wondered how many people had seen that wink, the silent acknowledgment of his presence.
As he went to put his broom away, he stopped to talk with the chattier lady behind a grill. They shared their outfit and warm presence, but not much more than that. The chatty lady was sweating, leaning over the flames all day, and had a pile of tickets marking her backorder on the build-your-own dishes. She still made time to stop and greet everybody engaging with her station.
“Hey honey, what’s your name for the order?” She sighed as she added another ticket to her already growing pile.
The student she asked was tall, nonchalant, and not paying attention. He leaned against the table behind him and finally broke eye contact with his phone to register the words she said and responded with a simple, “Will, thanks.” His red zip-up hoodie and dirty blue jeans added to the relaxed, laid-back look he seemed to be going for. Will was immediately engrossed in his phone when the two words exited his mouth, and he tried to sit down in the tall chair behind him, missing at first before finally sticking the landing.
“That’ll be right out for you.”
Most of these students kept their heads down with their headphones on, signaling to the universe that they were in their own world for now. Some came in groups, almost in waves, talking amongst themselves and continuing a sentence from the walk over, once again signaling that they were not available for interaction. It’s a losing battle for the staff; if they talk, they’re interrupting, but if they stay silent – as so many do – they remain under the cover of sameness. Alone in the present moment, where not even their own customers reside.
