A busy day, somewhat busy night, nothing, really, in light of what's to come...
It will only get worse.
The new waiters, call them M and Z, both mid 50's, M a reformed alcoholic, looks to be about mid or late 60's, in reality only mid 50's. And Z, Muslim, dark skinned (Punjabi?) - the same age, somehow looking younger.
Both career waiters.
The owner, he's not happy with either and is toying with the idea of having the Talking Waiter come back.
He's accounted for his time, poorly, true, came back to the restaurant, spoke to the owner, with daughter he supposedly rescued from Tunisia (I thought he said France?), skimming through his portfolio of documents, official looking stamps, bypassing quickly those he thought of little relevance or that might contradict his story.
He apologized, offered to repay any of the money he owed outstanding, showed staff pictures of luxury handbags (knock-offs, Italian Made) and accessories that he had for sale....
He wants his job back.
These new waiters, they're old, 55 in the restaurant industry is ancient, they're not so quick, and the owner's quick to point out they're many shortcomings. True, M has been making a good effort, putting in the hours, the work, but not so swift. Same with Z. And the owner, he resents the fact they're the same age, he wants them gone.
It's not as easy as this.
They know everyone, they've done fine dining in Calgary for decades, our regulars, they know them, they're glad to find their favorite waiters in their favorite restaurant. And nobody really liked the Talking Waiter, nobody except for the Nephew who found him amusing....
We all found him amusing, not reason enough to have him back....
So it goes. It's hard to predict who will stay and who will go, both have made plans to be there for the long haul, one, or perhaps both, have been sadly deceived.
3 weeks to Christmas, the weekends hugely overbooked, the short new waiters frantically trying to keep up. We're grossly overstaffed, not that it will be reflected in time off or additional sleep, but - oddly - in extra hours and less tip-out, but so it goes.
We - the Nephew, G and I, head to the local for drinks. The bartender, her sister, they apologize for her birthday, they remember nothing, I understand. They're working together, so there's obviously no hard feelings. And - from an idle sense of curiosity - I get their ages, 21, 30 - easily 5-10 years less than what I would have guessed. Possibly my guessing - why would I be good at this after all? possibly it's just the lifestyle in the NE, hardens, ages one ahead of one's years.
Talking to G, he's afraid. Afraid of becoming M or Z, afraid of what the restaurant holds for him, he's borne it 10 years, how many more? And he's not laying anything aside, payments on his house , the conventional tangible investments, dreams of opening his own place....it's bleak. It is bleak, no one wants to end up like M or Z, and I'm closer by far than him, the indifferent, despised waiters unappreciated, discarded by all, the chances of a real - a good - job - next to nil, waiters, unlike any other profession, devalue over time, a blonde, 18 with a C cup, is worth far more to most restaurants than a Sommelier at 65 who knows everyone in the city. It's the way it goes. Sad but true. When was the last time you saw anyone over 40 in an Earl's?
They're exemplary. The fate of all old and discarded waiters.
G begs me not to leave, he and I, we're the only 2 that know the place, without me it gets worse in a big hurry. I know, I've left before, heard the stories, as trivial as my contribution is it's not without merit. I'm going to Alaska, I tell G, I haven't changed my mind. Not even death would change my mind, and I'm not sure he isn't expecting me.....
So it goes. G's depressed, the nephew leaves early, we're all exhausted and the Christmas season is just beginning. I count weekends, tomorrow night and there will only be 2 to go, the weekdays, let them handle themselves.
Time Passes.