An Open Letter to This Busser at Joan’s on Third
by Amy Lindorff
Dear Busser at Joan’s on Third,
I’m sorry I didn’t catch your name on your name tag, but you are the one who learned a little lesson about gender norms and making assumptions the other day.
I (a female in her mid-twenties) was there on the patio with my uncle (a man in his mid-forties). We were just chatting about whatever, waiting for our food, which you brought to the table. Instead of asking who had the salad and who had the sandwich filled with cheese and meat, you plopped that salad right down in front of my without a second thought, and gave the sandwich to my uncle.
Here is the thing, though. I did not want any part of a salad from Joan’s. Some days I do, but not that day. And my uncle isn’t even eating bread right now. So maybe next time, please ask who ordered what instead of just being all “oh here’s a young gal she gets a salad, obv,” and walking away.
It’s a brave new world these days, full of women who want to eat a sandwich.
The more you know.