By Joan E. Collier
I was at my favorite bagel place for lunch recently. It’s a neighborhood non-chain little haven where the servers call me “Miss Joan,” and the owners post rules that say we should all be kind to one another.
Its clientele is mostly singles or couples stopping in for a nosh and coffee—a non-Starbucks kind of place happily devoid of pretense. It also is mostly devoid of children, given its menu offerings.
However, one little boy (quite well behaved) was inside the cafe the other day, sipping on apple juice and getting a sugar high from his pastry. The place has outdoor seating, and the boy spied a dog on the patio and started to go outside to pet him. Anyone who has been around little boys knows that their speed knows no limit when dogs are concerned. He barreled through the swinging door to get outside. Unfortunately, a server was coming in, carrying a tray and looking ahead, not down. She missed the 40-inch bundle coming from the other side and the door smashed her in the face—the tray flew, the server grabbed her head, and the boy got that “oh-oh” look so familiar to parents of toddlers.
It is perhaps is a sad commentary on how long I’ve been involved in workers’ compensation when I confess that my first thought was not “Oh, I hope she’s OK,” but rather, “Boy, that’s a work comp claim.”
With all due respect to my risk management friends who consistently claim there are no “accidents,” I think I saw one. Sometimes, stuff just happens. Good news, it appears that the server will be just fine.
I suppose this accident could have been prevented if there were no little 4-year-old boys around, but what a dreary world that would be.
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