More with Dwayne

 

(The cook was under the weather.)

On Saturday, I got to the restaurant at 9 p.m. A guy named Tommy was on the grill because Dwayne the Dwarf was late.

I said, “Dwayne takes a lot of pride in being a rock star. It’s not like him to be tardy.”

Tommy said, “He’s sick, but the manager wouldn’t give him a day off.”

“Why?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I dunno. Probably because nobody else wanted to cover the shift. I fucking know that I don’t want it. I’m dying to go to bed. I’m beat.”

“But he’s under the weather. It happens to all of us from time to time.”

He shrugged his shoulders again. “Oh well. Life’s tough.”

I served a few customers who were sitting at tables in my station. One was by himself, and the other two appeared to be friends. Their requests were easy because they ordered straight off the menu. Plus their tips were fantastic. I made twenty-five bucks in less than thirty minutes.

I showed the cash to Tommy. “I’m the worst waiter in the world, but they just keep giving me their money.”

“Trust me. You ain’t the worst. I’ve worked with some real fucking losers over the years. It’s goddamn depressing if you want to know the truth.”

“What’s depressing about that?”

He shook his head and frowned. “I thought I would have left a bigger mark in the world.” Then he let out a heavy sigh. “I guess it wasn’t meant to be.”

Dwayne the Dwarf finally showed up at 10:30 p.m. I was out in the back smoking when he strode past me.

I said, “How you feeling?”

He turned around and shot me the stink eye. “How do I feel? Like fucking shit. I shouldn’t even fucking be here.”

“Well, look on the bright side. The shift’s almost over. You’ve only got another seven-and-a-half hours to go.”

“Fuck off.”

Ten minutes later, three SUVs pulled into the parking lot. There were six teenagers dressed in baseball uniforms, and they were accompanied by their mothers. I prayed to God that they would sit in Weepy Wanda’s section. But it wasn’t to be. They plopped their asses down in three booths on my side of the restaurant, and I got ready for war.

Dwayne called me over and waved his angry finger in my face. “One table at a time.”

“I think they’re all together.”

“I don’t give a fuck. One table at a time!”

The order was quite confusing due to the fact that the party requested three different checks. Yet I just took my time because I didn’t want the cook to have a heart attack. To make things worse, the kids were extremely rude. They kept waving their empty cups and demanding refills while I was waiting on other people.

Suddenly, I realized that my teaching days are over. I’m too old to deal with ignorant children. I’d probably get fired in no-time flat.

With that said, the moms actually left me thirty bucks. They also apologized for the poor behavior of their sons.

I walked outside after cleaning the booths. It was time for another cigarette. Meanwhile, Jamaal was smoking Mary Jane near the dumpster.

I said, “The tips are pretty good tonight.”

He took a toke from his joint. “I don’t want to be a waiter for the rest of my life.”

“I don’t blame you.”

“So I’m going to get my GED and attend Ohio State University.”

I nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

He took another pull from his joint and smiled. “This is great shit. You want a hit?”

I waved him away. “Thanks, but I’m going to pass. I’m too old to get high. I’ll just stick to alcohol.”

“You’re never too old for marijuana. Look at Willie Nelson.”

I walked back into the restaurant and drank a Coke while eating a piece of pecan pie.

Overall, it was a productive night. I made 250 dollars.

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