Memory Issues

On a Saturday morning I realized that I had not received a confirmation phone call for a dinner reservation that I had made weeks ago. so I called the venue and inquired about it. I learned that there was no record---my name was not listed in the book. Concerned,  I spoke with the manager who knowing me as a loyal client found a way to work my reservation in despite the fact that the restaurant was booked. Catastrophe was averted. And the manager apologized for the staff member who clearly did not perform her job properly saying I am so sorry Mrs. Ciccone. But I am comfortable telling you that that particular employee suffers from CRS.

I had never heard of CRS.

The manager explained CRS stands for Can’t Remember SH**

My brother Mark and I do not exchange Christmas gifts but every year we ignore our promise and do it anyway. We do it because it gives us pleasure to see the elation in each other’s face when the gift is received.

This year my brother and sister-in-law gave my husband and I a gift certificate to a restaurant we frequent. It was both thoughtful and generous. But in the confusion of Christmas, when I arrived home, I could not find the certificate anywhere. I sorted through all the tissue paper and gift bags and boxes. I even searched though the garbage. But it was gone.

 I felt awful. But my husband and I agreed not to say anything because we did not want my brother to be sad.

Last week in doing an inventory of my wine rack I noticed it needed replenishment. But I remembered that my sister in law’s mother had given us one of those gift boxes of Italian wine at Christmas. I tracked the wooden box down. Inside of it, neatly placed, was the gift card my brother had given me at Christmas. Evidently I had placed it in the wine box for safe keeping. Some part of my brain thought it was a strategic place. And it was—had I hit the “save” button on the memory file.

It would seem that I too suffer from CRS. Good thing I do not work as a receptionist recording dinner reservations.