So we went out to dinner the other night, and our waitress had a black eye. This wasn't a biker bar; it wasn't a greasy spoon. It was a fancy-ish restaurant. In our careers as diners, Sarah and I have had a number of waiters/waitresses with black eyes. (We tried to do an exact tally but couldn't quite nail it down.) Unless one travels in particularly pugilistic circles, black eyes are not a very common sight, and our waitron-shiner index strikes me as significantly higher than that of the population at large.
Are waiters/waitresses, as a group, more prone to bludgeonings? I waited tables for many years with nary a bruise. Is our experience just a statistical anomaly? Have the random machinations of the universe flung us haphazardly onto the tapering flange of this obscure bell curve?
Or is there something larger at hand? Is this the role destiny has cast for us? Is this our work? Is this our fate? What does it all mean?
Why, God, why?