Scattered, Smothered, Covered… and Apparently Running an Executive Function Intervention

Recently someone said something that made me stop mid-bite at Waffle House.

This was during a discussion related to working memory. 

“The people who work at Waffle House have their own language.”

Now before you laugh and dismiss it, sit with that for a second.

Because as I’m sitting here, coffee cup half empty, listening to “Cheesesteak plate! Over medium! Scattered, smothered, covered! Waffle PB! Eggs scrambled, scattered light!” being hurled across the room at lightning speed, I start thinking…

Wait a minute.

Are we overlooking a whole set of skills?

As a special education teacher, my brain never shuts off. Ever. I could probably be stranded on an island and somehow connect coconuts and survival skills back to executive functioning and intervention strategies.

So there I sit.

Dishes clanking against tubs in the back. The sprayer hissing as plates get rinsed off. The steady sizzle of hashbrowns and bacon on the grill. Coffee mugs clink as servers slide them onto tables with practiced precision. The smell of coffee, grease, syrup, and whatever magical substance creates the infamous Waffle House film that somehow coats every surface in existence. There are call-outs flying every direction.

“Bacon on one!”

“Drop hashbrowns!”

“Cheese steak plate! Smothered! Covered!”

And somehow… everyone just knows what is happening.

Then it hits me.

We’re living in a world where we don’t exercise our memory the way we used to.

“Hey Alexa, remind me to take the trash out.”

“Hey Siri, add dentist appointment May 25th.”

“Set a timer.”

“Text me later.”

We outsource our working memory all day long.

But not here.

Not at Waffle House.

Working memory, for those of us who live in educator land, is our brain’s ability to temporarily hold and manipulate information while completing a task. It’s not just remembering something. It’s remembering something while simultaneously doing three other things.

And Waffle House?

Waffle House is an executive functioning obstacle course.

Because these workers aren’t just recalling one order.

They’re recalling:

• The order itself
• Modifications and substitutions
• Table numbers
• Timing and sequencing
• Prioritization
• Customer interactions
• Environmental distractions
• Task switching
• Sustained attention
• Processing speed
• Cognitive flexibility
• Recall and response

And they’re doing it while someone asks for extra napkins, coffee refills, ranch, hot sauce, and where the bathroom is.

Research around working memory and executive functioning repeatedly connects these skills to learning, problem solving, reading comprehension, following multi-step directions, organization, attention regulation, and task completion. Working memory isn’t just a school skill. It’s a life skill.

Yet here we are acting like it only matters inside classrooms.

Meanwhile Betty at Waffle House just processed seventeen pieces of information while filling coffee cups and yelling “scattered covered chunked.”

Then another thought hits me.

A couple years ago I remember listening to the love of my life, The Barista, talking about how people love hiring Chick-fil-A employees because they’re known for manners and customer service.

But here’s the thing.

We know that’s an expectation.

It’s trained. It’s taught. It’s built into the culture.

So then I start wondering…

What’s the expectation at Waffle House?

(As I listen to the folks next to us talking about how their server is dressed.)

Because what’s unique is people get to show up as themselves.

Colorful hair? Sure.

Piercings? Cool.

Tattoos? Come on in.

Rough around the edges? Maybe.

But maybe we’ve mistaken rough edges for lack of skill.

Because while society is busy assigning labels, these people are operating with cognitive loads that would leave many of us staring into the void.

Yes, there are indicators tossed on plates. Markers. Systems. Supports.

And as a special education teacher, I immediately smiled at that.

Because supports do not eliminate skill.

Accommodations do not equal inability.

Read that again.

Supports do not eliminate skill.

The plate markers don’t magically make someone stop using working memory. They reduce cognitive load so the brain can allocate resources elsewhere.

Sound familiar?

Graphic organizers.

Visual schedules.

Sentence stems.

Checklists.

Manipulatives.

Calculators.

Accommodations are not crutches.

They’re tools.

The person still has to think.

Still has to process.

Still has to recall.

Still has to perform.

Then another thought hits me.

If I ever need a personal assistant, forget the fancy resumes and corporate jargon.

Find me a long-standing Waffle House employee.

Immediately.

No interview required.

Because if you can remember that Table 4 switched from wheat toast to raisin toast, Table 7 needs extra pickles, Table 2 wants more coffee, and somebody yelled “over medium, scattered, smothered, covered” three minutes ago while still somehow bringing me syrup before I even realized I needed it…

You’re hired.

No questions asked.

Then my special education brain spirals even further.

Because the plate markers?

Visual supports.

The order call-outs?

Auditory processing.

The organization systems?

Cognitive supports.

The sequencing?

Task initiation and prioritization.

The recall?

Working memory.

The environment?

Controlled chaos.

And suddenly I realize…

The next time someone asks me for an intervention for executive functioning…

Welcome to Beth’s Waffle House Intervention.

Step one: Place them in the middle of breakfast rush.

Step two: Tell them to memorize:

“Cheesesteak plate. Over medium. Scattered. Smothered. Covered. Capped. Waffle PB. Eggs scrambled, scattered light.”

Step three: Good luck and Godspeed.

Funny enough, I walked into Waffle House thinking I was getting breakfast.

Instead, I accidentally found an executive functioning lesson hiding between coffee refills and hashbrowns.

Because somewhere between the clanging coffee cups, sizzling grills, and syrup-coated countertops, Waffle House might accidentally be running one of the greatest executive functioning training programs I’ve ever seen.

And now I can’t unsee it.

My special education brain has officially ruined breakfast again.

-Beth B. Blissful