The Lives of Others

One of the things that struck my sister when she visited me for the summer many years ago was how small Boston is. Boston is the kind of place where, after a week, you'll start recognizing people in the subway. A woman with a fancy top may catch your eye while you're heading out, and somehow on the way home you'll see her again. While this has happened to me before, it didn't really strike me in anyway. But little things like this may stand out more to the tourist.

-----------------------
I was a regular at this little Korean eating place in Allston...well, not quite a regular regular, but a once-a-month type of regular. Since it's been quite a few years, at least one of the waitresses recognize me. One of them is chatty and makes an effort to make small talk when she sees me. The other one is quiet, so I never chat with her. Because I tend to visit on the same day, at the same time, whenever I go, I see the same waitresses, and in my mind they belong there.

One day, I decided to eat at the Korean place in Porter Square, just out of the blue. We sat down and the waitress comes over. She is the quiet waitress from the other place I frequent. I feel uncomfortable -- what is she doing here? Is she just a lookalike? Does she recognize me? Is she wondering why I'm not at the other restaurant?

Upon further reflection, I realized that I had an unreasonable view of things. Of course she has a second job. Waitressing doesn't pay that much. Because she is young, I had assumed that she was a student with a part-time job. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe she needs that second shift to make ends meet.

A few weeks later when I was in Allston, I took a detour and walked past a row of shops. Through one of the windows, I saw the guy from the falafel place in Harvard Square, except he was no longer just the guy from the falafel place in Harvard Square anymore. He's the middle-aged guy who works at two food places, trying to make ends meet.

-----------------------
Something else happened to me today. I ran into Harry from the Dudley House sandwich bar (a Harvard dining facility), except I wasn't at Dudley House. I was at a beauty salon in Coolidge Corner, and he was the receptionist. I thought he looked vaguely familiar as I informed him that I was there to do my eyebrows. He thought I looked familiar too, and asked me if we know each other from somewhere.

"Do you work at Harvard?" I asked. He said yes.

"Oh my goodness." I exclaimed. "How did you remember me?" A man was waiting for his wife in the front area, and he witnessed our exchange. I proceeded to explain that I ate at Dudley House for a year when I first started graduate school at Harvard.

"That was seven years ago. He remembered a face out of the thousands of people he has seen since." Harry confirmed that about 300-400 people pass through the dining hall each day.

He explained that he's helping out at his wife's store. Ah. So he's the man mentioned in the Yelp reviews (how I found this place). It felt strange to connect the dots. He said that the store is relatively new, that they opened in June 2011 (less than a year ago). He would have introduced me to his wife, but it was a different lady working today.

I had a fantasy about Harry many years ago. His sandwich bar is the brightest spot in my memory of the Dudley House dining hall. The other dining staff were not impolite, but you never felt the warmth in their service. Harry on the other hand takes his time to serve each student, and piles it up on your sandwich when he does. He is happy to be feeding you.

From what I saw, Harry made sandwiches to order during lunch, and helped out with food prep at other times. In other words, he could probably run an independent sandwich place on his own. While the pay as a dining staff is probably decent, I've always thought he could do better as a small business owner running his own little sandwich place. The loyalty he's earned from the students is loyalty that he can earn as a proud small business owner.

The eyebrow threading went quickly, and relatively painlessly and I liked what the lady did for me. On my way out, Harry asked if I wanted to take a few business cards for friends, and if I could write a review on Yelp. "Not because of me, but for the eyebrow threading." I took a few cards, and mentally decided that I'm not creating a Yelp account to give his wife's business a review. A one-review Yelp account would probably look fishy. Besides, I really wanted to write about Harry.

Assuming his wife is as sweet and conscientious as Harry (which seems likely, judging from the Yelp reviews. Harry is probably in his 50's, so they've been married a long time), I'm sure her business will do well. Me, I'm writing this because my fantasy of Harry being a small business owner is partially fulfilled by his wife opening her little beauty salon, and it makes my day a little brighter.

PS. To readers who know/like Harry, you can support his wife at the Heritage Threading Salon