Dear Favorite Waitress at the local bar and grill-----
I miss you, and I don't even know your name. You have served me my lunch every Friday for the last 8 years, and lunch just isn't the same without you. I know you had to move on to a job that offered more money, but couldn't you please come back just for Fridays? I promise to tip REALLY WELL.
Your replacement just does not understand how to take care of me and my family. She forgot to give me Dad's ranch dressing, and doesn't know our drink order by heart. She doesn't know that Little Sprout likes to have extra crackers and her very own pickle. She doesn't play with Little Sprout the way you always did. Little Sprout kept looking at her and trying to play the smile-game, and she didn't know how to play. Little Sprout was very disappointed.
"Our" table was taken today, meaning we had to sit at the only other table big enough for our party which is in the middle of a very crowded part of the restaurant. You know how we always like to be in the back by the kitchen. I was so worried Little Sprout would spill on the carpet, and then I would feel bad. They didn't have clam chowder today. I know you wouldn't have been able to fix that, but at least I would have been comforted in my clam chowderlessness if I would have had you around to tell me if the other soups are good. I don't know if this new girl likes the same things that I do or not.
I am not saying the new girl is not nice, she really is. But I miss YOU. My comforting Friday routine has been disturbed, and I miss it. You have been a part of my life through both of my pregnancies and watched my children grow. You proudly showed your coworkers pictures Big Sprout colored for you. How can I love another server the way I do you?
Good luck in your new life, with (hopefully) a better life for you in your family. I miss you terribly, and lunch will never be the same.
Your Friday Lunch Redhead
P.S. I really mean this, I am not being sarcastic or mean at all.