The blue deck chair: It’s only words

In an unashamed take from Graham Norton, I intend to write a few stories called ‘the blue deck chair.’ You are free to pull the lever and flip my chair. So please send feedback, flip, or let me walk…

In the current world we live in, we’re routinely reminded about what we shouldn’t say and how our words might hurt someone’s feelings. It’s always ‘I feel bullied’ or ‘I feel hurt’ or some other variation of ‘that was culturally insensitive.’ Fair enough, I suppose. But here’s the thing, we rarely hear about when our words actually do something good, because we often forget to remember and acknowledge the positive.

So this blue deck chair story is set in Tony’s Wellesley Street—my favourite haunt.

It’s not just the convenient walk from work that draws me. Tony’s is like ‘Cheers’—you know, that American sitcom with Ted Danson and Kirstie Alley, with the theme song ‘Where Everybody Knows Your Name?’

Like us at Gilligan Sheppard, Tony’s has a core team that has been around forever. There’s Ken, the owner, who comes in for lunch most days and sits in the window; he knows your name. Then there’s Donna, who is now retired but has been there forever and still comes in. Ken’s son Kelsy could do a good Ted Danson act. And let’s not forget Donna’s adopted daughter, calm and always smiling, who mans (or should I say womans to be culturally sensitive, yeah nah) the front desk, assisted by my personal favourite Kirstie Alley impersonator and part-time actress. The place is full of those sorts: locals, who, I kid you not, are famous. Just scream ‘Cars, Cars, Cars,’ and out pops Tina from Turners with a garden frog and a sense of humour.

Well, gee, you just feel safe and welcome.

So then loose lips sink ships, and one day, I start running off with my table guest about one of my pet hates—social media and how everyone overthinks everything these days. You know the spiel: sticks and stones will break your bones, but why do people care so much about what others think of them? Why don’t they just be themselves, and why isn’t the ‘Subtle Art of not giving a fuck’ a compulsory reading in Intermediate school?

Anyway, the waitress overhears this and looks a little whimsical and a little distressed. But being the caring soul that I am, I ignore it—or, more to the point, I don’t even notice.

Years later—yes, she’s still at Tony’s, now working the front desk—she stops me and says, ‘You changed my life; I was struggling with anxiety based on fear of what others thought and overhearing your conversation that day changed my life.’

Words matter. But what matters more is how people hear them.

I still wonder what made her choose that moment to tell me, but I’ll never forget how it made me feel. The lesson? When someone makes a positive difference in your life—even unknowingly—tell them. Her sharing that with me was like returning a gift I didn’t even know I’d given.

This is the essence of Tony’s, an Auckland Icon that has been in the same place for 60 years and mostly under the same owner, Ken.

So what do you think, flip or walk? Vote here.