Finally, and what a night. Apparently I'm not held to working Monday.
Tonight we're busy, the book filled to overflowing, the owner has been relentless in his taking of reservations.
We're overbooked. A full flip, and then some.
It's been a long day, the early morning for garage sales, trivial chores throughout the day.
The last day, I suspect.
At work, J (former waiter, friend of owner's) has picked up a case of sausage for my final meal. We have this and rice, the sausage is delicious, it's a treat.
And the owner corks a bottle of champagne, cheap bubbly, and his skepticism aside toasts and wishes me well on my quest.
This is leaving as it should be, good terms from the restaurant where no one leaves on good terms. My second time, and somehow I feel I've earned a medal. The champagne's a nice gesture, but given my lack of sleep and the busy, busy night ahead I can't relax.
The set-up done, nothing to do but to wait.
M gives me a present, a fine bottle of Scotch, I'm touched, he didn't have to. He shouldn't have. But I like the gesture. Z promises to take me for lunch, Indian buffet, he's Muslim but wants me to drink. I don't need to drink, need to drink less. But the lunch is a courtesy.
People are decent.
The night progresses as anticipated, the slow degeneration, people waiting at the door for 45 minutes on reservations, tables that were given out times lingering far beyond their allotted - and informed - slots. Crazy busy, and this is the shift to fire me out the door. The nephew is with the customers, complete pains but they tip well. I'm for the principal, if you're told you have to leave, admitted on the condition your have only so long to dine, then leave. And let others take your seat. But not all of our customers agree.
It's a long, long night. Midnight, late, especially for us. And when finally we lock the doors, I've returned the keys, given the farewell hugs to all and sundry the Nephew, G and I are off to the bar.
A few drinks, more hugs, laughs, recollections, I'll see them again before I go to pick up my cheque.
This is the last supper.