I watched him as he pushed through the glass door and walked into the restaurant. My eyes moved from his dirty white Nike sneakers to his worn-out black jeans, which had turned pale. He was wearing a black sweater that seemed like it had emerged from the 19th century. His hair was messy, it seemed like he hadn’t combed it in ages. He was gangly and I knew he was not the one.

“Please don’t sit at table number 2,” I pleaded in my heart.

Well, it looked like my plea had fallen on deaf ears as he marched right through to table number 2 and pulled up the chair to sit down.

It had been eight weeks since Dominic’s restaurant had hired me to be one of its waitresses. I had just completed my diploma in beauty therapy. I needed the job so that I could save some money to be able to open up my own beauty salon.

The restaurant was situated in one of the busiest streets in North Pretoria. It was always packed, as many people stopped by to either have their breakfast, lunch or dinner. Every waitress or waiter had been given three tables which they were serving. I had been given tables 1, 2 and 3. For the past couple of weeks, I had observed the people whom I  served. Each and every single one of them was loaded with money and they always left me a tip as a token of appreciation for serving them well.

There was this guy, probably in his mid-thirties, who always wore a tuxedo. He liked dining at table number 2, and he always left me a big fat tip. I had nicknamed him Mr Tuxedo since I didn’t know his name. He usually had his lunch at Dominic’s at one pm. It was almost one pm and I knew that Mr Tuxedo was coming, when suddenly Mr Beggar decided to come in and occupy table 2 that Mr Tuxedo was supposed to dine at.

I called him Mr Beggar because he looked like a beggar, and I knew that he wouldn’t be able to leave me a big fat tip like Mr Tuxedo usually did. Table 1 and 3 were already occupied, meaning Mr Tuxedo would move to another waiter or waitress’s table. I was hurt at the thought of him giving that big fat tip to someone else, other than me. My co-workers knew about his big tips and always envied me.

I dragged my feet as I went to serve Mr Beggar at table 2.

“Good afternoon sir,” I greeted him in a cold tone, not giving him a smile –  this was totally against the code of conduct of Dominic’s restaurant.

“Hello,” he greeted back, with the most beautiful smile I have ever seen.

“What can I get you?” I asked with a stern look.

“Cheese burger and an iced tea please,” he replied, trying to read my facial expression.

I returned a few minutes later with his order and spilled his iced tea as I placed it on top of the dining table. I didn’t apologize for it and just left him to eat. He just frowned at me and started to dig into his food. A few moments later he raised up his hand to signal me to come with the bill, as he was done eating.

“Your bill is R70,” I said, looking straight at him to see if  he would be able to pay it. He took out a R100 note.

“Keep the change,” he said briskly.

“Uhm… thanks I guess,” I replied, surprised by his gesture.

“Samantha right?” he said as I took his plate and the cup, ready to walk away from him.

“Yes I am Samantha,” I replied as I turned back to face him in confusion.

“So you are the new waitress that they told me about. I am Dominic Sterns the owner of you know… Dominic’s restaurant.”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I was trembling with fear.

“Is this how you have been treating my customers huh?” he said, trying to contain his rage. “Do you know how many people are jobless and would appreciate this job that you take for granted?” he shouted and everyone in the restaurant stared in our direction.

“I am so sorry sir, I don’t know what came over me to behave this way,” I said looking down shyly.

“Uhm…am I fired sir?” I stuttered as I remembered that I had broken the code of conduct.  I had served him coldly, without smiling, and hadn’t apologized for spilling his iced tea.

“No you are not fired, but I will tell the manager to give you a written warning for breaking the code of conduct,” he said sternly.

“Thank you sir for not firing me,” I said as I took a walk of shame to the kitchen. Everyone was staring at me.

As I was trying to digest the whole thing,  Mary, who is also a waitress and had watched it all, came to me.

”Well…well… looks like someone almost got fired,” she laughed in mockery. “For your information! Mr Dominic started this restaurant from humble beginnings and doesn’t like dressing in tuxedos to show off that he is loaded with cash. He just likes to keep it simple and humble.  That is his life’s motto ‘simplicity and humility’,” she said as she left to tend to customers.

I watched as Mr Dominic whispered something to the manager before getting up to leave. He walked towards the glass door, pulled it open, and went out.

My mind was ringing with that famous quote, ‘Don’t judge a book by its cover.’

That day I got to understand its meaning more than I had ever done before.