The stewardess' job

That particular stewardess was supposed to serve the first-class passengers. She asked me what I wanted to drink. I said, "Seven-up." She felt that I had given her a special job. During the flight I didn't ask her again for Seven-up, but she was watching my glass. I was writing poems, in my own world. Whenever my glass became empty, she came and filled it. I didn't have the heart to tell her I didn't want any more.