Bill was in a mood. That waitress, Lorraine, had ticked him off and he’d done a one-eighty. He finished the soda by throwing most of it in the sink over by the dishwasher.
As soon as he got on the line, when she handed Tommy her first orders he told her to bring two more sodas and another beer. Lorraine looked at Tommy but Tommy simply shrugged her off. He’d accumulated a stack of orders quickly and began calling them out. There was no time for petty squabbling.
Bill and Henry Lee immediately went to work. It was like going from neutral to fourth gear skipping second and third. Bea helped Bill in his hissy-fit by giving Lorraine a hard time with her salads. For Bea, it was just being a bitch, and she took a pleasure in watching Lorraine being run in circles.
Bill would know cooks through the course of his many years in kitchens who would burn a waitress’ hands by purposefully heating up a plate. He would know cooks who demanded sexual favors to keep their jobs. He would know cooks who spit in a waitress’ dinner because they didn’t like the waitress. Getting a waitress fired wasn’t even a challenge.
Bill did none of this, not ever in his tenure as a cook or chef. He could have had Lorraine fired before the day’s end, but he remembered what it was like to need a job, to desperately need a job. He could have had her if he wanted. By the end of the meal she was in tears because they consistently backed up her orders and then dumped them on her all at once. And in the midst of her angst, Bill made her make four soda/beer trips. Finally, Tommy intervened saying it was enough.
“Happy?” he asked.
“Want her to get you a coffee?” Bill asked.
Tommy just shook his head.
Lorraine went to Bill after the meal and asked to talk to him privately. She was about forty, a bit chubby. She showed her age by sporting some grey hairs. Her makeup did not hide her wrinkles or age marks. She wore glasses, no jewelry and was not particularly attractive by Bill’s tastes.
They went into the party room downstairs and sat at one of the tables. Lorraine did not tuck her legs under the table. She sat with them wide open so Bill could see up them.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Okay,” Bill said.
“Really.”
“Okay.”
“I was just having a bad moment.”
“Okay.”
“I need this job. I like it too. At least I did up till today.”
“You married?”
“Divorced.”
“Got kids?”
“Two girls, fourteen and twelve.”
“Okay,” Bill said.
“I can’t tell you how sorry I am. But I could show you.” Lorraine got off her chair and stood before Bill. “I’d be happy to make it up to you.”
“Sit down,” Bill said. He watched her sit back down. She was crying, he could see. He got up, went behind the bar and got her some tissues.
“Thank you,” she said when he handed them to her. Then, “Don’t you want me to make it up to you?” she asked.
“Go home and kiss your kids.”
“I’m not pretty enough, huh?”
“It’s not the way I work. And I know what it’s like to need a job. Hope you learned your lesson.”
Lorraine stood up. “We okay then?”
“Go hug and kiss your kids,” Bill said standing. He watched her walk out of the party room before he went out.
Coming this month:
The Ghost Writer, Rose’s Story: A Look At The Worlds We Hide
