I'm all for the little details, for nice touches that equal perfection. I really am. That being said, I'd rather not spend forty-five minutes ironing every single table cloth in the dining room. Especially when that means we can't set anything on the tables until that job is done. I guess it's the restaurant's version of a New Year's resolution. Maybe they think that by smoothing out the creases on the linen, the creases in our own service will somehow improve as well.
I have enough trouble ironing my own shirt properly. There's always some crease that I can't get out, some wrinkly patch that I'll inevitably miss. Half the time I'm creating creases where there were none, or burning myself with the steam button. (Even though I kind of like the noise it makes, a friendly little hiss.) I tried to explain this to my co-worker when he got all huffy after I said, "You're not done with that yet? Hurry up, I need to set this section!" and he passed the iron my way in a "Let's see if you can do it faster, then." kind of challenge.
I attempted to avert the chore with a feminist argument (Just because I'm a woman, you think I'll be good at the ironing??) but he was having none of it.
"Who do I look like, the Iron Woman!?"
"Sorry, I have some other pressing issues to attend to..."
I stated my past history of all things heated - the scar on my neck from the curling iron, the blister on my hand from the straightener, a somewhat exaggerated mishap with the sandwich press - but by this time I was actually just talking to myself.
Choosing to strike while the iron was hot, I smoothed things out with my co-worker.