the waiter story

I was waiting tables at a second rate seafood restaurant when I was 18 years old. I had just dropped out of college again (third time already) and moved home from San Diego.
That dick of a manager scheduled me to close again. I looked at my schedule as I strolled around the back of the house, trying not to be noticed. Scotty and Lance had headed over the hill hours ago. The swell was epic yesterday and today held the same promise. I was still a bit blunted from our morning sesh, but nothing out of hand like that time I tried to wait tables on acid. The lunch crowd was typical for a Tuesday. A bunch of blue hairs wanting their stupid soup and salad or $5.99 what the fuck is that? fish special. Vern had 2 tables. She was her usual, nasty self and Rod seemed like he was still drunk and probably was. I didn’t see him even take one table. I spent most of that afternoon in the back, chatting with Carlos in spanish, and doing side work. The usual shit: fold the napkins, fill the sugar caddies, truly mindless. Big Steve (he actually called himself that and insisted we did too) decided that today was get on Josh’s ass day.
“Hey, josh, I am going to count those rolls. There better be 30 this time.”
“Got it.”
“Got it what?”
“Got it, big Steve.”
“I am going to count them.”
“I know you will big Steve.”
My middle finger was flying for no one to see. But that was nothing new. This man was at least 40 lbs over weight and 4 inches too short. He didn’t seem to own a comb or any pants that were not made from polyester.
There hasn’t been more than one table at a time for an hour and a half. Rod was long gone and Vern and I were trading as little small talk as possible. Vern was at least 15 years my senior and a lifer. She had the die job that matched the life she has led. Boring, cheap and mediocre. There wasn’t any money to be made at the table and was scheming to get the hell out of there. I had to take my shot.
“So, Vern, you think there’s going to be a late rush?”
Slanted look “What?” This was not a request to repeat myself. “I’m not closing for you again, Josh. I have plans.”
“Come on.” That was the best I had. I was no match for an old pro like Vern. Whatever favor she had ever done for me was not for me.
“Tony is coming up from Fresno and we are going to Daily’s tonight. I need to get pretty.”
I doubted that was possible but she didn’t. I had just gotten back in to town and was basically broke. I was staying with my mom and dad while I figured out what the hell I was doing with my life. I wasn’t concerned with my life, just that afternoon. I had just run into a girl I had a crush on a few years back and actually believed that if I could get out of here, I could get into there. (I couldn’t) I wasn’t about to let big Steve have his day. My mind raced. Here are the possibilities, I told myself. It is Tuesday and I have had 3 tables all day. It is quite possible that if I do what BS wants and get all of my side work done, we just might close early. It doesn’t happen often, but it does happen. I guess there was just one possibility to me. I went in the back to piss and when I returned, Vern had split. It seemed that BS decided that her services were no longer needed. I guess it made sense. Neither of us had had a new table in a half hour and her last one had just left.
“So, Big Steve, how are we lookin?”
“Side work done?”
“Yup.”
“I’m going to count it Josh.”
“Yup, so how’re we lookin?”
“Give it 15 more minutes.”
It was a quarter to 2 when IT happened. They all came at once. Four two tops, a three top and two four tops. I had seven tables all seated at the same time. I have never even had more than 5 tables at once before. I have to admit I was a terrible waiter. I never did get the rhythm of it and had too much punk in me to serve people. I have always worked in the back of the house but took a shot at the front for the money. Too bad I sucked at it so bad. I had once told a customer to go home and make himself because I was too stoned or indifferent to remember all of his special requests, but that is a story for another time.
I go in. Hi, my name is Josh and I will be your server today. Can I start you off with something to drink?
Water. Water.
I will be right back with your waters.
Hi, my name is Josh and I will be your server today. Can I start you off with something to drink?
Diet coke, no iced tea, diet coke, wait yes, diet coke. Coke please.
I get the first two tables their drinks and head to the third.
Hi, my name is Josh and I will be your server today. Can I start you off with something to drink?
Coke. Iced tea. Iced tea.
I cover the rest of the tables with drinks and get back to table one for food orders.
We have been waiting for 10 minutes for you to come back.
I am sorry. What can I get you?
This is the moment that I realize that I am not going to make it. I dutifully write down their orders and move on. Table after table. After I take down the last order I look down at my notepad to check over my notes. Well what do you know? There isn’t a single thing written there. I grin a bit and head for the door. I often wonder what those patrons were thinking as they saw me stroll by their window waving.