This was the Thanksgiving that, at the age of 95, my husband’s father (whom I’ll call “Grampa”) and who still lives alone (with daily caregiver visits), was in the hospital for the first time in his life. It proved to be quite a stay and Grampa was coming up on his third week in the hospital. So, our plans for the holiday were to drive seven hours and see Grampa in the hospital on Thanksgiving Day.
It wasn’t exactly the Norman Rockwell Thanksgiving we older folks have been conditioned to think of as ideal, but somehow, the Universe unfolded in favor of Grampa being discharged that day. It was determined that it would be better to release him to his caregiver, since there were some special instructions for daily needs. So, there we were, on Thanksgiving afternoon, having not eaten all day, with Grampa already having had Thanksgiving dinner in the hospital and not keen to have another one. The upshot of all this is that we ended up at Cracker Barrel for Thanksgiving dinner.
Now, the fact that the Cracker Barrel (or anything else) was open came as a surprise to me. So, being fairly hungry by this time, I was feeling pretty grateful. I was also feeling kind of bad for the folks who were having to work to make my Thanksgiving a happy (and well-fed) one. When we arrived, it was clear we weren’t the only ones who’d be having Thanksgiving dinner as paying guests of Cracker Barrel. When I tell you it was packed, y’all, it was like a Sunday morning at the intersection of the heathens finally getting out of bed and the decent folks getting out of church, both rolling through at the same time.
And, I’m here to tell you that the folks at the Cracker Barrel in Forest Park, Ohio, were doing everything right. First of all, they had someone right up front, as soon as you walked in, taking names so that there was no way someone could get caught in the gift shop maze, and think they were in line. That was the first example of providing good customer service under maximum load.
But, you know, people will be people, and the woman ahead of us in the line to get our names on the waitlist, when told it would be 45 minutes, bitterly complained that “someone” said it would be 15 minutes. The woman taking names was clearly just over it but held her tongue. I’m trying to get this compassionate integrity thing down, so I followed her lead and didn’t say, “Woman! Look at this place! We’re gonna need Crisco and a crowbar to squeeze through all of these people just to find an open spot to stand! How in the world could it only take 15 minutes? The ONLY correct answer to anyone in having to work in this place on Thanksgiving Day so that we can have our dinner made for us is, ‘Thank you!’” So, instead, I thanked the woman taking names for seating and told her I was sure her job, dealing with people while standing in front of that first door and getting blasted by the cold every time it opened, wasn’t easy. She seemed a little less put out and I hope she knew I was sincere in the empathy I felt for her and how grateful I was to her as part the team making it possible for me to be fed a lovely traditional meal on a national holiday. She told me the wait would be 60 minutes. Done. Thank God for the gift shop maze to keep us entertained, right?
So, my husband and I wandered around separately and together, found this hilarious mug (“20% STUD, 80% MUFFIN) and took a picture of his Santa-looking self with it because it was so perfect, had a lovely conversation with a woman who was there with her two out-of-town grown sons in their 40s because, as she said, “This mama don’t cook that big dinner NO more!,” and smiled at people as we squeezed through to check out a place that was chockablock with both bric-a-brac and people.
Then, the next thing our Cracker Barrel did right was call our names after only 30 minutes or so, instead of the hour wait we’d been told to expect. That’s also great customer service, right? They totally under-promised and over-delivered. Classic and perfect.
After we were seated, we were provided with menus but, hey, what were the chances we were going to have anything other than the turkey, dressing, gravy, green beans, and cranberry sauce (and they were even including a slice of ham and a slice of pumpkin pie for good measure) meal of the day. Our server was delightful (and I think a little delighted that we weren’t one of the big tables ordering some of everything on the menu and/or asking for substitutions). I had already decided, before coming in, that whatever the total bill was, I was going to also leave that amount as our server’s tip, and in the end, I rounded it up to $30 because our server so cheerfully provided that wonderfully tasty, unexpectedly available meal for which we had to do nothing other than wait a while and pay only $27.
So, thanks to Cracker Barrel, the amazing staff at the hospital, and a remarkable caretaker all working on a national holiday, we were able to spend the day seeing my father-in-law doing well enough to leave the hospital, know he had the care he would need to stay at home at least a little while longer, and still have a delicious Thanksgiving dinner. And, you know what may have been the most wonderful part of all? Spending the actual Thanksgiving meal and the next several hours, just my husband and me, together. I’m grateful beyond words for the many people who make up our family, extended family, and friends who are (in some cases) much better than family. But, this year, I think that spending the day in non-Norman Rockwell-traditional fashion, primarily with my husband of nearly four decades, allowed me to deepen my gratitude for him.
So, in the end, even with one of the most jam-packed giftshops on the planet, the gift I received for Thanksgiving this year wasn’t one I could buy from Cracker Barrel. But it was a priceless gift they gave me nonetheless. And what could make for a better day of gratitude than that?
In closing, if you’re ever dining out on a holiday, remember that the correct response to nearly anything the restaurant staff tells you is, “Thank you.” And, if you have the good fortune to be able to, don’t forget to over-tip your server.
Positively happy 