Carol the Waffle House Waitress Is My New Life Coach
Respect is a two-way street and she made sure he knew it.
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Recently, I found myself in Atlanta, Georgia, for several days and I knew that a visit to Waffle House was in my future. It’s not difficult to find one since they’re as plentiful as pizza places in New York City. As of February 2024, there were 1,986 Waffle Houses in the United States and 439 of them — or 22% — are in Georgia. Viral videos of late night food fight shenanigans and wiseacre waitresses add to the appeal. They’re open 24-hours a day, 365 days a year and I wonder how anyone keeps track of the front door key since the place is literally never locked. The Federal Emergency Management Agency even coined the term “Waffle House Index” because the restaurant is known to stay open during even the worst of bad weather. If a Waffle House is closed because of a hurricane, batten down the hatches, because it’s serious.
I found a Waffle House within walking distance of where I was staying and made my way to breakfast. It’s only my third visit to the iconic eatery and I looked forward to it. Walking in, the bright fluorescent glow of lights greeted me as did the manager who looked younger than the Birkenstocks in my closet back home. “Sit anywhere you want,” he said, his voice cracking with youth.
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I seated myself at a booth and Ms. Carol approached me with a menu. Her name tag said she had been with Waffle House for four years, but she’s been of this earth much, much longer. She called me "sweetie" and reminded me of every waitress who worked at Mel’s Diner on Alice all rolled into one. When I ordered a Coca-Cola instead of coffee, her eyes narrowed as if to understand what kind of person she was dealing with. She took my order of scrambled eggs, bacon, cheese grits, and a biscuit and returned shortly with a Coke that was in a glass big enough to take a bath in. Minutes later, I watched another customer come in and ask the boy-manager which section was Ms. Carol’s and she proceeded to sit at the counter directly across from my booth. She was greeted warmly by our waitress who said, “The usual?” I longed to be a regular of Ms. Carol.
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My food arrived and I was only slightly disappointed to see that cheese grits at Waffle House is just a half slice of American cheese haphazardly tossed onto the top of the bowl of grits. What was I expecting, Parmesan and fontina? I stirred it in and ate my breakfast as I watched Ms. Carol interact with her customers. It was like dinner and a show.
"“Staring at me won’t make me move any faster.” "
Ms. Carol
Another man came in and sat down at the counter and immediately began looking for a server. His head was spinning around so much he looked like the girl in The Exorcist. He locked eyes on Ms. Carol who was wiping down another section of the counter. His impatience was palpable. She slowly looked up at him and then said something that filled my own longtime server's heart with joy: “Staring at me won’t make me move any faster.”
She had a half smile on her face that made me think she was being funny, but one eyebrow raised that made it clear she was serious. It was a delicate balance of both. The man realized his place and Ms. Carol finished what she was doing before going up to him. I don’t know if he too was a regular, but it was clear that she was the one in charge. This was the Waffle House energy I wanted.
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Some servers might have shriveled at that man’s menacing gaze, but Ms. Carol understood that he needed her just as much as she needed him. Respect is a two-way street and she made sure he knew it.
It was now raining outside and when Ms. Carol cleared my plate I told her I was going to have to wait a bit until the rain slowed down since I had walked. “Stay as long as you want, hon. You want another Coke?” I declined the offer since I had already consumed more than enough. It soon stopped raining, I tipped 40% and went on my way. Those cheese grits really stuck with me, but not as much as Ms. Carol.
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