Empathetic Voyeurism

Do you ever wonder about the lives of strangers? I do. Not in a perverse Peeping-Tom sort of way but in a very humanistic, curious sort of way. For instance, the woman with two small children, on the bus, with tired eyes and no wedding ring. I observe her maneuver her son into the only available seat. Simultaneously, on her left hip, she balances her daughter; on her right shoulder, school bags. I've no judgment (I am a single mother), merely wonderment. Is she struggling? Strong? Lonely? Content and simply worn out at the end of her day? Stories I question. Do you? I believe that we are all voyeuristic to some degree (you are currently reading my blog, are you not?). Natural and productive. Supposedly, necessity is the mother of invention. I think that curiosity, at times, may share a kinship with empathy. Are you curious?

Here's a scenario for you:
You've just returned home from an upscale, downtown restaurant. Your evening has been lovely. The atmosphere had been bustling, yet your experience had been one of relaxation. You and your dinning companion enjoyed casual conversation and sipped leisurely from your glasses of Yellow Tail Shiraz, while you awaited the arrival of your entrées. Having been delivered in a timely fashion and so beautifully presented, no consideration at all did you invest in considering the preparation of your meals. As it should be.

So, you're home. You are tired and must be up early for work. You are about to settle comfortably into your bed. Allow me return to the restaurant now.

It is 12:35 am. The restaurant has been closed since 10 pm but a phone call, in desperation, is made for 'help'. Arriving with a friend who has already worked a twelve-hour day, I step up to the darkened bar where I am prepared to do some reading while he offers his assistance. I am politely asked to provide some privacy to two staff members who need to discuss the 'hows' and 'whys' of where this night has gone awry. I proceed to the emanating, fluorescent-glare of the kitchen. Scenes from an episode of Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares come to mind. It is in shambles. Someone has been overwhelmed and has walked out on the job.


I am later provided with a brief explanation. The night had been exceptionally busy and the 'someone' was a fifteen year-old high school student hired to work the dish-pit. A young man who had been unable to keep up with the work load; who found himself exhausted, frustrated, and anxious about having to make it to class by nine the following morning. Faced with a seemingly insurmountable task he panicked, phoned his kitchen manager, and walked out. He has left enough unfinished work in his stead to occupy three experienced men for nearly two hours. One will not be paid, he is offering his services in friendship as a favour; one will be paid over-time (which isn't much when you're earning nine dollars an hour), he has been called in long after his shift ended today; and the last receives a salary, he will be paid the same amount whether or not he remains to expedite the process (he will be the last to leave).

You may return to this same restaurant tomorrow. You will enjoy a meal of equal quality within an atmosphere equally abuzz. Your experience will again be one of tranquility. All this shall be afforded to you due to the efforts of people you do not know. Strangers who remained into the wee hours of the morning to restore the kitchen to its necessary state. To establish pristine order. Shall your experience, now, be any different? You've wisdom. You are now privy to the type of disasters which may occur in the back of the house. To the sort of silent triumphs employees may accomplish. To a particular caliber of dedication and work ethic. Hopefully your voyeurism has provided you with a sense of respect and empathy. Please, say 'thank-you' when your meal arrives.