The Life After--Part One--Customer Service

My mission ended as quick as it had begun--or, so it felt.

The last night before leaving the mission was one of the strangest nights I've ever experienced. I lay awake in my bed, shaking uncontrollably. I was shaking for fear of the future, the excitement of going home, the opportunities that lay ahead, the friends I would hope to make, and the life that would finally be mine to live.

I remember sitting on the plane going from Lisboa to London, and watching my home for the last 2 years, slowly shrink away. I shed a few tears of sadness, but, they were quickly ebbed as I thought again of the new life that I was given.

Immediately upon returning home, my parents took me to Chili's. I had never actually been to Chili's before, so it was exciting for two reasons: (1) Because I had never been there before and (2) I was so ready to eat a classic All-American cheeseburger and fries.

When we got entered the restaurant, I was shocked by how clean it was. The floor was shiny, the air smelled great, and there were absolutely zero flies. It was nice. Sitting down, our waitress came to the table. I was still in missionary attire, and my little brothers and sisters kept on asking me hundreds of questions. The waitress was taking our drink order.

When she finally was ready to take my order I asked, "How much are re-fills of Diet Coke?"

She looked back at me with a blank stare.

"Ummm...re-fills are free."

I was shocked. "Really? Wow. Okay, great! I'll have a Diet Coke, then."

She smirked a little and went off to go get our drinks. My family burst out in laughter.

I was a little confused. "What's so funny?"

My little brother, Alex, chimed in. "Re-fills are free, dummy."

I had completely forgotten! We're in America now, dumbass! I thought. The "land of the free" and the "home of the free re-fills"! Our waitress came back with our drink and set it down. As quick as I could, I chugged the entire drink before she had finished setting down the drinks.

She looked at me as if I has some strange soda fetish.

"I-I'll get you another one," she said, crossing the restaurant.

My family was staring at me.

"What? I have to get my money's worth."

They laughed again. The entire night was filled with questions from my little brothers and sisters, some side stories of what happened--minus the homo-erotic ones--and just good, all-around Artaxerxes fun.

When we left, I asked my dad to give the waitress a substantial tip.

"Why?"

"Because she was amazing."

My older sister rebutted. "She wasn't that good, Andy."

Again, the shock came. "Are you serious? I mean, come on! She gave us drinks and stuff..."

I thought for a moment. I guess my older sister was right.

I just wasn't used to good customer service. In Portugal, you're lucky to get a full can of soda when you eat at a restaurant. In Portugal, people don't really say please and thank you. And, they never tip. Ever. It's a cultural thing. I remember when I tried to give a sandwich lady a tip. She looked at the Euro in my hand like it was carrying the black plague. She refused it.

Anyway, we left Chili's and we headed to the hotel to stay the night.

After my first night in a real bed, we headed home and I was released from being a missionary. I started watching all the movies I missed out on, reading all the books that I missed, catching up on TV shows, and eating too much American food.

One short week after returning home, I was shipped off again to BYU.

And that, my friends, is when everything changed.

~End Part One