If This Were Easy…


I’ve been very bad about updating my blog…

Filed under: writing — Easy @ 11:19 pm

…but I’ve been better about updating my Joe’s Goals. At least I have ticky marks.

Instead of writing a progress report here, I’m just going to leave you with this month’s writing assignment, which was an approximately 500 word Valentine’s Hate Story.

Table 2

So, I said, “Can I bring you a drink while you wait?”
“Oh, I’m not expecting anyone else,” she said.
I caught myself before I mentioned that it was Valentine’s Day. But sheesh, taking up only half of one of my best tables on the busiest night of the year. Who dines alone on Valentine’s Day? I just offered her a drink. Again.
A glass of water she wanted. No ice. Slice of lemon. If she’d ordered it hot, I’d have figured her for a bring your own tea bags type. Hell, I figured her for a bring your own tea bags type anyway. But maybe she was just watching her weight. There was a lot of it to watch.
I brought her the water and asked her if she had chosen yet. She had questions. Lots of questions. Was there blue cheese on the cheese plate? How about the salad? Was the beef free range? Or the chicken? Were the greens all seasonal and local? Seasonal and local! In Manhattan! In February. There were about 2 dozen pairs of eyes boring into my back as I stood and answered her stupid questions. I tried to get her to order, but she wanted “just a tiny minute more.”
I took that as my chance and I ran to catch up. Watered 7 and 9, entreed 23 and 24, apped up 11, 14 and 16, watered 9 again, and then noticed that her menu was closed in front of her, so I tried table 2 again. I asked her if she was ready to order.
She very carefully — and slowly, geez, how can you move that slow? — opened her menu, and pointed at the first item. “I’ll have the soup,” she says. Soup. Christ.
“And for your entree?” I ask her, all dripping with with condescension, but I don’t think she noticed. But she doesn’t want an entree. Just the soup. She said she was saving room for dessert, but she was never gonna order dessert. I’ve been doing this for enough years that I can tell.
I ran through the dining room watering and apping and checking all my tables and then finally get her order in. As I headed towards 3 with their desserts, she waved me over to ask if her soup would be long. Well, longer than the 6 minutes since she ordered it, apparently. “Just a few minutes,” was all I said.
When the soup came up, I left it sitting for as long as I could without the sous chewing my ass out for messing up his expediting. When I finally dropped it on her table, she didn’t even taste it, just asked for salt. Fine, salt. I brought salt, and tried to escape while she poured it on. But, then she wanted water. So, water. Brought some water for her. Managed to sneak some to Table 9, too — they were big water drinkers, but at least they were chasing the water with an occasional sip from a $120 bottle of Bourdeaux, you know?
When I brought the water, she wanted bread? Bread. Okay. Bread. When I brought the bread, she’d dropped her spoon and needed a new one, so I ran for that, too.
Table 1 was practically threatening to leave without paying so I tried to catch up, but 11 and 14 were still waiting on their dinners and the sous was now really pissed off at me. Table 2 caught my eye as I walked 11’s steaks out to them, and without quite stopping, I asked, “Is everything alright, madam?”
“Well,” she said, and then sighed and daubed her face with her napkin and then repeated herself slowly. “Well … it is a little salty.”
And you see, don’t you? I had those plates still in my hand. The steak knives were right there. I had to kill her, Officer. I just had to.



  1. Very nice! And moderately disturbing! *g*

    Comment by Rusvul — 2009-02-22 @ 3:15 pm

  2. As a former server, I like it, very very much.

    Comment by beaglesmuggler — 2009-02-25 @ 3:47 pm

RSS feed for comments on this post.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Blog at WordPress.com.

%d bloggers like this: