“Hey,” the smaller kid said. Bill started to walk away but as he said what he did he put his hand on Bill’s shoulder.
Bill flipped. He was already in the red zone and he just went to fire.
In one motion, he turned, tackled the little mutt and pinned him on the ground. Without thought and as part of that same motion, he grabbed his hair and started banging his head on the cement sidewalk.
Over and over. He would have killed the kid if the kid’s friends hadn’t pulled him off. They literally had to pull him off. It was hard to do so because Bill’s hands were still grabbing the kid’s hair.
But for the grace of God.
No-good place three. There were many no-good places. About six weeks after he was out of the workhouse, the undercover cop who was in the back of the paddy wagon with him and the kid he had tried to defend, a cop who they didn’t know was a cop, who was handcuffed just as they were and who led the conversation which showed up verbatim at his trial, tried to sell him pot in an alley in Columbus.
Why was Bill in an alley? Because through the campus area, at least, and in many parts of Columbus, there was a back-street type network. They were like alleys behind the buildings but they were through streets in actuality and they had no traffic lights at all. They were faster and more direct in some cases, and when you were walking from one place to another, if you knew how to cut thought the alleys you could cut your walking distance considerably.
This was wrong-think because laying there in bed Bill got pissed off all over again. He could feel himself starting to fume. He felt himself clenching his fists and he wanted to get up and punch the wall.
He might have. He just might have if one of the cats had not jumped on the bed and rubbed her ears on his half—clenched fist. It was the spotted white one, Sylvie, and he rubbed her ears. Her purring started deescalating his rage, her rubbing on him and revving like a smoothly running engine made him feel almost happy, almost good.
Overall, Bill could not remember feeling happy. He couldn’t remember feeling good.
He petted Sylvie until she was done being petted. Like any self-respecting cat, when she’d had enough, she simply got up and jumped off the bed. That’s when Bill got up, not because he had to, but because he wanted to. He got up, went to the frig and got himself a beer.
He drank that first beer quickly, and then he took himself a second beer which he brought with him into the shower. This beer he drank slowly, sipped at it while he lingered under the hot water. A long time he spent under the hot water.
As he dressed to get ready to go to work, he considered the day. He did not have any banquets to work on but he would spend a few hours with the banquet chef and Victor doing the prep for the next day’s parties. The rest of the week had no banquets, but lots of little parties, New Years’ parties. There were some breakfasts too and he thought he might see Beverly one of the mornings that he was in very early. As he finished dressing, the way he was feeling, he hoped it was sooner than later.
The anger and the beer made him feel ornery. Ornery was another no-good place, a different kind of no-good place than a no-good thought place. Feeling ornery and being able to act on it was different than being in a bad place in thoughts.
The hell with it, he thought. Before he left for work he took a swig of vodka from the bottle in his liquor cabinet. Slightly buzzed, it crossed his mind that maybe he should take the bus to work.
By Peter Weiss
I see some of my friends and relatives, real Trump haters, celebrating with glee having received their second vaccination (for Covid). Being vaccinated is a matter of personal choice. I personally think it is a good thing, but like other issues, I don’t press my beliefs on others.
Yes. I research them. I study some of them. I state them. I don’t reprint on social media idiotic statements that bear no connection to any sense of truth just because they support my ego or verify my sense of self or my feelings at any given time.
I differentiate my beliefs and opinions from fact. And unlike what the woke people do so readily, I don’t say that my feelings are facts and ask people to accept my feelings as such.
These days I rarely carry cash, any cash whatsoever. So if I want a coffee and don’t want to charge it, I may feel poor for not having money in my pocket to pay for a coffee. My feeling poor, does not mean in effect that I am poor. Were that the case on April 15th I would tell the government I feel poor, therefore I am poor by your own standards, and so I won’t pay any taxes. (So you know, their own standards say that if a boy identifies as a girl on any given day and sees the doctor, the doctor must treat them by their identification.)
Okay. These days we could on like this forever. The hypocrisy is more obvious and certainly more rampant than ever before.
So I just want to say a couple of things to all you Trump-haters I know who have celebrated or are celebrating your vaccination on social media. First, if it weren’t for President Trump, you wouldn’t have a vaccine yet. Remember candidates Biden and Harris saying they wouldn’t trust the vaccine developed under Trump? Gee, now they want to take credit for solving the problem.
Yes, people, it was Trump’s initiative and foresight that developed the vaccine, your vaccination, (a feat which medical scientists equate to making the trip to the moon that Kennedy initiated in less than one year as opposed to the decade it actually took). Hate Trump as you will, still, no matter what you do, you’ll never delete him. You’ll never diminish that which he was so right about. Your vitriol will only make it more manifest.
Say thank you to President Trump for your vaccination and your safety. The Democrats could never have done it in the time Trump did.
By Peter Weiss
Bill’s wife had to work the next morning. She was up early and because he was used to it, Bill was up too. For a change, he was able to linger, to lounge around. She was the one who had to shower, get ready, get dressed, get gone. Her bus came at 8:15. If she missed it, she’d be late to work.
Sue made coffee for Bill while she was in the kitchen. She made tea and an instant oatmeal for herself, sat by herself while she had her breakfast.
Bill stayed in bed. He drank his coffee there and took a moment in his life to do nothing. Doing nothing was good as long as it was only momentary. He was not one who did well with unstructured time. He’d asked Sue if she wanted a ride to work. She’d declined because she liked the walk to the bus and the bus ride. As well, she wanted Bill to be able to rest.
He did nothing for as long as he could. The trouble with doing nothing was there was nothing to do and with nothing to do his mind went to places it should not have gone to.
First no-good place was reliving his trip to the workhouse. If he thought about it, he could hear the gavel banging down, Judge Shul telling him in no uncertain terms “Policemen don’t lie.” He wondered as he lay there if that judge really believed that or if it was something he was obligated to say due to his position.
Having been forced to cop a plea to something he simply did not do still made Bill sick to his stomach. On top of that it pissed him off and that anger heaped on to all the anger he’d always had. For his part, he knew this now, he’d had anger long before he knew he knew he was angry. Maybe, just maybe, if he’d known he had anger at its onset, he might have gotten help for it. Maybe. Who knows? Who knew? Most likely his father wouldn’t have let him go for help anyway, even if he’d known he needed help.
The judge had made the mistake of asking Bill if he had anything, any last thing, to say. Maybe he thought Bill was going to apologize, but that wasn’t close. Instead, Bill started to say that he wanted to say that “it” didn’t happen the way the police said. Or, what he actually said was “I just want to say that the policemen l…” He never got out that “l” word which was lied. Or, he got the word out sort of but the gavel banging down even before he could complete saying the word stopped it from being heard.
He remembered being taken into custody right then and there, being put in handcuffs and led out from the courtroom to the holding cell. He remembered seeing his wife’s jaw dropping and her standing there with her mouth open.
And that was just the start.
Second no-good place, he didn’t know why, was up on Springfield Boulevard with his best friend and his step-brother. They’d encountered some kids one of whom had a beef with Bill’s step-brother. They were all about sixteen.
The kid picking on Bill’s step-brother was much bigger than him but he was just about Bill’s size so it seemed right to Bill to intervene which he did without hesitating. He was direct, straightforward. He stepped between the two of them and stood face to face with that boy.
“Why don’t you pick on someone your own size,” Bill said.
This stopped the boy in his tracks and he backed off, but since their group was bigger in number than Bill’s group, one of the other boys stepped up to Bill. Trouble for Bill was the boy was the runt of the litter, much smaller than Bill.
Bill took a moment and sized up the situation. He quickly, maybe rightfully, determined that their little mutt wasn’t worth his effort and turned to walk away.
By Peter Weiss
It was almost two in the morning when Bill got to his in-laws’ house. His wife was waiting for him and he took her quickly into the car and drove home.
“Have a good day?” he asked.
“Missed you. Otherwise, it was okay. My aunt and a whole load of people came over and my mother fed them all. We opened presents, then the men watched football while the women chatted.”
“What did you do?”
“I hung out with my brothers for awhile, then with the ladies for awhile. Mostly I stayed in my room upstairs and read. I also had a good nap.”
“We were very busy all day. Even the evening and night were relatively busy. Caesar kept us open for our regular hours so we couldn’t even clean up until we were just about closing.”
“You must be tired.”
“More weary than tired.”
“What time tomorrow?”
“Later. Not until eleven.”
“Good. So you can sleep in a little.”
“I’m hoping to.”
“Good,” his wife said.
They rode the rest of the way home in silence. His wife hooked her arm in his and kept herself close to him as she could get given the bucket seats. Then they were there and he parked and they went upstairs.
The house was warm. It was clean and neat, and despite it being very late, they both hung up their coats.
“I’ll run us a shower,” his wife said. “You want anything before I do?”
Bill said no. He took her in his arms. “I love you,” he said. He kissed her once, a soft kiss, and then he told her to go along because he not only felt funky, but he smelled funky too.
One thing they always had plenty of was hot water. Bill did not dilly dally at all. He went straight to the bedroom where he stripped and tossed his clothes into the hamper for dirty laundry. Then he went into the bathroom and joined his wife in the shower.
They lounged a long time in the hot water. They washed each other and Bill washed his hair. Since he’d been working in kitchens, he washed his hair a lot.
“Been drinking?” his wife asked.
“All day. But not get-drunk drinking. More like celebrate-the-holiday-in-our-own-way drinking. We all worked hard, everyone, bus boys on up. We sold a shitload of ham and turkey and then as the evening got later we started selling a lot of steaks and hamburgers.”
“The hotel must be busy.”
“That hotel is always busy. And we have parties all week too.”
“I hope it slows down some so you can have a break.”
“All the overtime is good money.”
“We’re doing okay now,” his wife said. She was done with her shower, done getting washed and washing her husband. “I’m getting out,” she said.
Bill waited until she was out of the shower until he said, “What’s okay? Having been broke and down and out, I don’t think just having some money in the bank is okay. I think making as much as we can and putting away as much as we can—that’s okay.”
Sue didn’t say anything. She was toweling herself dry. “Want a glass of wine?” she asked.
“Sure, Bill said.
“Meet you in bed,” his wife said.
Bill finished rinsing his hair and made sure all the soap was gone from his body. Then he stood a couple of minutes more under the hot water. He remembered Rosie ever so quickly taking his hand and putting it up between her legs so he could feel how wet her panties were from her sweating. He remembered her helping herself to a feel of him only to discover his underwear was equally wet.
“Haven’t peed yourself, have you?” she asked.
“You?” he responded.
Sue had lit candles and made the bedroom soft and pleasant. She had put on a nightie and was waiting for him as he came from the shower.
“Hi sweetheart,” she said.
By Peter Weiss
Kalista had neither the time nor the inclination to tell Bill about the waitress and Caesar. They had all worked all the way through mostly non-stop and they were still working. Their work was less harried now, less manic, more steady. But they worked continually.
Late orders came in steadily but the later it got the more the orders switched over to less specials more grilled items like steak and hamburgers. Bill and Jimmy G worked it all together neither one of them leaving the kitchen except for getting things needed or to go back to where Kalista was for more espresso.
Everyone had had a lot to drink. No one was drunk, not even high. What they had done was start early and maintain so that like stale beer, they were stale and tired. Near closing it was definitely time to go home and get into the shower. Despite having changed shirts twice, Bill could smell himself, and if there were one thing he really didn’t like it was smelling himself.
Not only was Bill feeling stale and tired and smelly and weary, but he was getting cranky too. Caesar was the last of the staff he had to feed and when Caesar came for his meal, Bill didn’t feel like making it. He told Jimmy G he really had to pee and asked him to fix Caesar’s plate.
Rosie met Bill at the bathroom. It was quite by accident this time. They had both found their ways to the near bathrooms for the staff.
“Goddamn we had a day,” Rosie said just before she went into the ladies room.
“Yeah,” Bill said. “Been here, done this before, worse than this.”
“New Years is pretty good too,” Rosie said.
“It is what it is,” Bill said.
They both went in to do their business and since Bill was faster, he waited for Rosie so they could walk back together which they did. Wasn’t much to say except how tired they were, but being tired was a given.
“Be glad to get into the shower when I get home,” Bill said.
“Yeah, me too,” Rosie said. She smiled at Bill.
When they weren’t so tired physically and weary overall, Rosie would have made a comment about how she would have liked Bill to be in that shower with her. The lack of a comment of that nature on her part was obvious to Bill and maybe wanting to start something he said “Not gonna make a comment?”
“Nope.”
“Nothing?”
“Nope.”
“Good girl,” Bill said.
“Don’t you like my comments?”
“Course I do.”
“I like the way you react to them,” Rosie said. She tapped Bill on his arm. “I’m gonna shower and then I’m gonna sleep until I have to get up for work tomorrow. We’ll be busy all week.”
“You think?”
“That’s the way it’s always been. I know they have a lot of little parties again.”
“Banquet schedule is pretty full.”
“End of the season,” Rosie said.
“Wanna drink?” Bill asked.
“Why not?”
They were back to the ramp. Up at the top, at Kalista’s station, Bill found the whiskey bottle Kalista had. He poured a good shot into a coffee cup and handed it to Rosie. She downed it quickly, thanked him and Kalista and went back into the dining room. Kalista just shook her head, but she didn’t say anything.
“We didn’t do anything,” Bill said. “Honest mommy.”
Kalista smiled. “I make last espresso for the day.”
“Good,” Bill said. “I didn’t feel like fixing Caesars’s dinner, so I went off to pee. She just happened to be there. We didn’t dilly dally. We peed, we came back and here we are.”
“Yes,” Kalista said. “Here we are.”
By Peter Weiss
Around ten it slowed significantly. By eleven it was almost dead.
Rosie was the last to eat. Between her and Edelgarde Bill had fed the two bus boys and he he’d also fed the kitchen stewards. The stewards could have eaten in the main kitchen. Jimmy Banquet Chef would have fed them, happily too. But they wanted to hang out by The Falstaff Room because they wanted to eat steak and they knew Bill would feed them what they wanted. Steak it was.
Rosie ate a steak too. She liked hers bloody, so for her it was a quick drop it on the grill, rotate it, flip it, and do the same for the second side. She took mashed potatoes and veggies for her sides.
Just for spite, Jimmy Banquet Chef waltzed through the dining room for a second time. Bill had passed on the message of how it had piqued Caesar the first time, so it was a pleasureful and satisfying second trip. Jimmy Banquet Chef took his time, spoke with customers, joked with kids at the tables.
“Chloe is out there,” he said when he stopped back in the small kitchen. Victor was sitting where Jimmy G usually sat and Jimmy G was standing in the middle. He was working orders with Bill.
“She’s eating prime rib,” the banquet chef said. “Probably last one you cut.”
“She happy?” Bill asked.
“What do I know?” Jimmy Banquet Chef said.
“Nice piece of ass,” Victor said. “Sweet. Classy.”
“I think you got a shot with her,” Jimmy Banquet Chef said.
“Ya,” Jimmy G said.
“I’m not looking for any shots with anyone,” Bill said.
“Right, you wouldn’t throw one into her?” Victor said.
“Sure I would,” Bill said.
“Well,” Victor said, “so there it is.”
“Bet she tastes good,” the banquet chef said.
“Ya,” Jimmy G said, “bet she does.”
“Jesus Christ,” Bill said, “ain’t you got no shame?”
“We got shame,” the banquet chef said. “We’re just talking.”
“You can do more than talk,” Victor said. He smiled at Bill. “Smart money says you will too.”
“Yeah, right,” Bill said.
“Ya,” Jimmy G said.
They all stopped out by Kalista before Jimmy Banquet Chef and Victor headed off back to the main kitchen. Kalista made espresso for them all and Jimmy G and Bill hung out with them there in the pantry. They ate Greek pastry, drank the whiskey-laced espresso. They all helped Kalista load up as much as she could on their truck so she would not have much to carry back later.
While they were all laughing and working, Caesar came out to find his cooks. In all likelihood, if Jimmy Banquet Chef weren’t there his tone would been different, harsh, bossy. As it were, seeing him, Caesar simply said, and quietly too, “We have some orders.”
“See you in a few,” the banquet chef said.
Jimmy G and Bill went out to their little kitchen. They did their orders, a small stack of them, six tables in all.
Bill picked up the stack all at once, read them all, sorted them. Three of them were only specials. He hung these up on the board. The other three tables had steak and fish. These he worked by getting the needed items out and on the grills. He did the fish last, put them on flash pans, set them up, placed them in the Dutch oven.
It took a few moments to work the tables they had. Because it was slowing considerably, Rosie hung out by Bill after she’d done all she could for her customers.
“Just the lovers out there now,” she said. She smiled at Bill. “Young and stupid. But they’ll probably get laid tonight.”
“I’m young and stupid too,” Bill said.
“How you figure?”
“Should have stayed single,” said Bill. “Should have done a few things different.”
“Like what?”
“Don’t get me started,” Bill said.
By Peter Weiss
They worked late into the night. The dining room lighting changed as it got darker and the room turned from more family to more intimate. In this lighting a couple could come in and sit in relative dark where they could be close to one another, hold hands, touch a hand to a face intimately.
As the day wound down and the pace slowed, the girls and boys could take a break. That was a good thing. Bill watched it all. He had seen this, this scene, so many times before. He had walked through the Suburban dining rooms like Jimmy Banquet Chef did today. He had seen the scene from Suburban West’s open hearth.
Jo Ann came to him first. “What you got to eat?” she asked.
“What do you want?” Bill responded.
“Not the ham or turkey. What else you got?”
“Come back in five,” Bill said.
He immediately threw a steak on the grill for Jo Ann. He watched it slide into place, heard the sizzle then turned to work on the orders that had to be put up. There weren’t many and they were all easy, just specials. He did one table at a time since there were only a couple working and he did them at a leisurely pace since not many orders were coming in.
Jo Ann’s steak was all that was on the grill. All day he had not had a lot from the grill and he had not had anything fancy. Basic steaks seemed to be what those not eating the specials wanted, and of course many tables included fish orders, mostly broiled salmon or filet of sole. He rotated then flipped her steak very quickly since the grills were hot. One thing about being a broiler cook was that you had to understand how the grills worked, how they heated and cooled depending upon volume, how important it was to rotate things being put on and how there sometimes came a time when the grills simply had to be left to heat up again. That was one of the good things at Suburban. There they had the double charcoal grill and they also had the second broiler.
“What do you want for your sides?” Bill asked Jo Ann.
“What am I eating?”
“Steak.”
“A little mashed if they’re fresh and some veggies.”
“You got it,” Bill said.
“You know you guys did great today. I am so happy you’re working here.”
“Well thanks,” Bill said. “We did do great, but you all did too and we all pulled together.”
“No time for bullshit on a day like today,” Jo Ann said.
“None,” Bill said. He plated her food and slipped a cover on it so if Caesar were being nosy he could not readily see what she was getting to eat.
Jo Ann took up her plate. “The others will be along. We’re going one by one tonight and that includes the bus boys.”
“I’d expect nothing else,” said Bill. “Enjoy your food.”
When Jo Ann left Bill went down into his reach-in box and pulled out a beer. He used his chef’s knife to pop the top and took himself a nice long drink. “Merry Christmas,” he said to himself under his breath.
Jimmy G had gone out to his aunt. He came back with two mugs of espresso. He gave one to Bill and Bill, in turn, reached down into his reach-in and pulled out a beer for Jimmy. He popped the top on this one in the same way as he’d done for his own. They clinked beer bottles and drank.
Second up was Edelgarde. She wanted prime rib but Bill didn’t let that happen. Instead, she settled for a steak too. She had hers with a little bit of mashed and a little bit of stuffing. She told Bill to heap on the vegetables and to smother it all in au jus.
As he always did for the girls, Bill made Edel’s plate special.
“Boy, have I got something for you,” Edelgarde said.
“I bet you do,” Bill said.
By Peter Weiss
And it wasn’t. They had one more actual rush, a rush in that the tables leaving left kind of all at once and the tables seated were almost, not quite, like a fresh seating. So there was a lull and then the bang.
During the lull Edelgarde came over to Bill and asked if he had anymore espresso. Bill told her no but she could ask Kalista to make some.
“I’d give you beer,” he said, “but I’m not lifting the bottle over the counter. I’m still on probation.”
“Be right back,” Edelgarde said.
Jimmy G ran off to the bathroom and by the time he came back the espresso had been delivered. Kalista had made this one stronger, or it seemed that way to Bill as he sipped it. Edelgarde told him she’d sipped it before delivering it.
The girls ate on the run this day, or they ate on the sly. When they said they were hungry, Bill did a couple of things. He asked them what they wanted and made them plates which they picked up and took back to where Kalista worked. They left the plates on the bus station there and ate from them as they could get to them. Bill made plates for the bus boys too, only for them, he made them with more food.
For his girls Bill also cut a piece of prime rib and after trimming it he cut it into pieces and left the pieces on a plate under the warmer lights by his corner of the open hearth. Jo Ann happened by first and Bill showed her, told her it was for them. As they could then, they all ate prime rib.
Caesar would have gotten angry if he’d seen, maybe. The day was so long and so hard and so busy that maybe if he’d seen it he would have let it slide. Bill decided not for that, and in fact he would learn later that Caesar had seen and had said something to the banquet chef. Jimmy Banquet Chef let Bill know he knew. He let Bill know he had to tell the chef, which he would, but that given the day and the way things were going, the chef wouldn’t care. Even if he did care, it wasn’t anything that could in any way be job threatening.
“Kid,” the banquet chef said to Bill, “you’re a trip. “A good one all around.”
When he could, Bill made a special trip out to Kalista. He stood by her a moment and drank some beer. He surveyed all that was going on in the pantry area. He watched the comings and goings of the busboys and the pantry stewards who were delivering and hanging out to see if Kalista needed help. She needed it at times, but she was more than holding her own at the moment.
“And what do you want to eat, darling auntie,” he asked her.
“You good boy,” she said. “You very good boy. I want a nice steak with mashed and stuffing. Put some turkey gravy on it all, not much.”
“I’ll deliver it myself,” Bill said.
“I make extra espresso for you all.”
“Good.” Bill leaned in and did something wholly in the moment, completely extemporaneous. He kissed his adopted-auntie on her cheek.
“You good boy,” Kalista said.
“We’re getting slammed,” Rosie said to Bill soon as he was back in the kitchen, and they did get slammed, slammed almost like that first seating.
For this rush, which they all felt would be the last one of the day, it was all hands on deck. Jimmy Banquet Chef, only because he was younger, went alone to do the running. He was accompanied by his stewards. Victor stayed behind. He stayed as a utility man, to help Jimmy G and Bill and also to help Kalista. His staying turned out to be a smart move.
By Peter Weiss
They worked well into the night nearly nonstop. Jimmy Banquet Chef and Victor ran trip after trip of pans and pans of specials and side dishes. As soon as they got back to the main kitchen they started slicing and panning more ham and turkey while their kitchen stewards dished up vegetables, stuffing and mashed potatoes. Then, together, they all loaded the truck and headed back out to The Falstaff Room.
Kalista could have used a helping hand too. Adonia could have worked/should have worked. She could have spent the day with some of her family and made some money too.
Coulda/woulda/shoulda.
The only help she got was from the pantry in the main kitchen where a different set of stewards cut and washed lettuce and all the ingredients for the salad station. These stewards made their own trips out and replenished all Kalista’s ingredients. They also helped her set up shrimp cocktails and anything else she needed help with. Main concern for everyone everywhere was not to run out of anything. Running out of anything would mean having to slow down. Slowing down was not an option. The only way to play and win this game was to keep steady, keep up and stay the course.
Which they all did, all together. When Jimmy G or Bill had to pee, Victor or the banquet chef stepped in and stayed working until the one that was gone was back and ready to pick up where they were at. Same was true for Kalista. One of the kitchen pantry stewards would replace her while she relieved herself and they would stay until she was set to pick up without any disruption.
Several times when they were there with her, Kalista asked a steward to step in so she could make and deliver espresso for her boys. Her boys were now Jimmy G, Bill, Victor and the banquet chef. Each time she made them espresso she laced it with whiskey, and when her whiskey bottle was empty, she made sure to pass it to Victor who would refill it and return it on the next trip out.
No one got drunk. No one got high or buzzed. Everyone stayed steady and worked through.
“Man,” Rosie said to Bill when she was waiting on an order, “my panties are soaked. My ti6s are sweating and my feet are killing me.”
“I’m soaked too,” Bill said. “I’m on my third apron.”
“I thought I was gonna pee in my pants,” Rosie said. “It got so bad, I told Jo Ann I was running to the head and I didn’t care if Caesar fired me.”
“Caesar must be in his glory.”
“He didn’t like the banquet chef coming through the dining room. You should tell him to do it again.”
“I will.”
“Good. What you got to drink?” Rosie asked.
“Espresso,” said Bill. He put up his mug for her.
“No thanks,” she said.
“Drink it,” Bill said.
Even before Rosie put it to her lips she smelled the whiskey in it. Not wanting to be conspicuous, she simply smiled at Bill and put it to her lips.
“Let me know when you want more,” Bill told her.
“What about Eddie?”
“Kalista has the bottle. I just have beer.”
“I’ll tell her,” Rosie said.
Rosie picked up the order she was working on and the flow continued.
A runner would have been nice. An extra waitress would have been nice. But after the second turn, it slowed down in that people lingered and the tables that were emptying were more spaced out. This was because it was getting into the latter middle afternoon and people coming in were most likely not going anywhere. They were in no rush and had no interests in anything other than their own holiday meal.
With the seeming slowdown, with the spacing out of the orders, Jimmy G was able to go to the head and linger some. Bill watched everything, and Jimmy Banquet Chef and Victor slowed their trips.
They all knew, however, this was not the end of the day by any means.
By Peter Weiss
They worked and they worked and they worked.
The first seating was the toughest because it happened the most quickly. Even before noon people were at the door and they were seated as quickly as Caesar could do it.
The girls were standing ready. They worked the tables, started as always with drinks and bread/rolls. Two bus boys were working, so they brought the bread and rolls.
Before the girls served the salads, they took the food order, and on their way to get the salads they dropped their orders off with Bill and Jimmy G.
When the banquet chef arrived with the food replenishments, Bill noted that he was in a starched, clean uniform with a kerchief necktie. He was wearing his high chef’s hat too.
Victor was the one who actually emptied the truck and carted out the empty pans. He had two kitchen stewards helping him, so very quickly those soiled pans went over to the dishwasher area. The stewards also surveyed the china and silverware inventory and with use of a walkie-talkie system, the spoke with the dishwashers about what needed to be delivered.
Jimmy Banquet Chef immediately went out into the dining room and took a trip around. He stopped a couple of times, as Bill could see when it was where he had a view into the dining room, to speak to the customers. He smiled a lot, Bill saw, and strutted.
Bill knew that trip. He knew the banquet chef was asking about how the food was, if there were anything the people needed, if the food was hot and if they were pleased. Usually it was Caesar who did this, and later, when they had a chance to speak, the banquet chef told Bill that Caesar was not too happy about his showing up.
“Ask me if I care if he’s happy,” Jimmy Banquet Chef told Bill.
Victor had brought cold beer and they all had a drink. Any buzz that Jimmy G and Bill had before had been worked off within that first forty-five minutes. In that time, the room had filled and most of the tables had been served. Jo Ann had already complained twice about her feet hurting and Rosie had told Bill there were some cute looking kids out there. She’d finished that part of her conversation by saying it was better other people had them than her herself. She laughed when she said this, but she wasn’t shy about it and she certainly wasn’t embarrassed by her opinion.
They didn’t have much time to drink and didn’t stand there drinking. They opened their beer bottles, took a sip. Jimmy G and Bill did this quickly and then put their open bottles into one of their reach-in coolers. Victor and Jimmy Banquet Chef drank then headed out to where Kalista was. They had a fresh beer for her too, but she was too busy to stop to drink, so her nephew opened the bottle for her. She took a quick sip and put the beer, opened, away.
Bill couldn’t see this, but Jimmy G did and relayed it to him. Victor told him in Greek that they would be right back with more supplies, and Jimmy G relayed this to Bill too even though he was pretty sure Bill understood what Victor had said.
The second seating was slower and more spotty. As one party left, the table was re-set and a new party was seated. From within the kitchen there was a lag. One order, then another order and another and another. The boys had time to finish their beers and head out by Kalista one at a time for a drink of whiskey.
“You okay?” Bill asked Kalista while he stood there drinking.
“Ya,” she said. “When I get a chance, I make you boys some espresso and I spike it good for you.”
“Love you too,” Bill said.
