Combat Pay
The first winter season I worked for Food Company, I arrived at a home in Park Cities, Dallas, that was typical of their clientele. Beautiful home, amazing collection of art, books, and furniture. Their dogs had health insurance, I did not. It was 2006, the husband of the woman hosting the dinner party said to us before the guests arrived, “This is going to be like the war in Iraq, we don’t know what we’re doing.” They were served wine and passed hors d'oeuvres in the living room, but dinner was served in the detached greenhouse. The greenhouse was stunning (Mark did all the planning and decorating. You would have thought it had been done by David Stark, Mark’s work was amazing, too.), but it was a little bit of a walk from the garage where the hot soup and fois gras were being plated on a cold December evening. There were 12 guests, so a couple of trips had to be made by each server for everyone to be served. It all went without a hitch. At the end of the night, the husband of the woman hosting the dinner party pulled out his wallet and said, “This is combat pay.” It was hysterical, but also very generous. I can’t remember the amount, but I remember he at least doubled what we made for being there for 4 hours.
Last week I attended a yoga class for the first time at a studio I’d never been. Two people had recommended this particular class to me. I wasn’t aware of the timing, but many had been writing about the lunar eclipse in Cancer that arrived at 10:21am that day, how it would not be subtle, not for the faint of heart. This class started at 10:15am.
A leak in the roof was being worked on by a crew of men directly above us. The whole 75 minutes, lots of drilling, hammering, stomping. The teacher and the class were both great. When we started she said, “This is what life is, right?” Totally. To remain calm and centered in the midst of chaos is what we want. At times the ceiling was crumbling and falling in. In savasana, it got REALLY loud right above me, at one point I jumped a little. I even started laughing, because what else can you do when everything around you crumbles. It reminded me so much of my first year in New York, that summer it felt like dodging nukes. The break up, the bed bugs, the end of a friendship. Everything that could go wrong did. Eventually all I could do was laugh. It was the first time in my life that I really dove deep into meditation, and experienced the benefits. It transformed the turmoil into an adventure.
The teacher mentioned she was going to talk to the owner about getting the class comped for us (it was). I told her she deserved combat pay. To be able to teach a great class with all of the chaos, distraction, falling ceiling and dripping water, is above and beyond.