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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: People
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He has the best adventures, and regales us with them. Well.
He shouldn't have days off.
For example, the Stampede, $18.00 for a pack of mini-donuts (he counted 22) and $12.00 for a Budweiser beer.
I live vicariously through him, and am grateful for the savings.
Then there was the fight with his girlfriend, she ended by breaking a coffee table over his head, giant scars and lacerations all down his neck and back, the customers all commiserated, not understanding that in all likelihood it was the just desserts of his endless prevarications.
He's got scars now, permanent, they're long shiny pale ribbons that upon his tanned neck.
And, in another fight with her he's called the police, they know him now, know his name and his number, tell him they'll be a while, it's Stampede and they're busy, and so he sits upon a curb and waits their arrival.
While waiting he wants a cigarette, a couple of homosexuals nearby are waiting for a bus and smoking....
"Give me cigarette" he says, and the one looks him up and down before offering one in exchange for a kiss.
He's not in the mood, tells them to fuck off, go to hell, it ends with one of them looking on while the other lifts him by his hair for the kiss....
The police have a laugh at his misfortunes, they're sympathetic, he has that charm...
These stories, they're gold, he regales us with them over dinner, his uncle the boss merely looking on in horror, he doesn't know what to say.
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: People
- Hits: 1332
He's two hours late for his reservation and the kitchen is closing up. But he's a regular, and so we keep them a little longer to take his order.
My day has just gone to hell.
The entire afternoon, serving a single table of two. Time I'd usually spend staring vacantly into space, or sitting down having a coffee. Or napping. But it's all gone to hell now.
He introduces me to his date, and as I'm the only person there, and by talent quite invisible they converse as if I weren't in the room. He has it all, all he needs now is a woman to share it with...
...and she, she's a little bit older and maybe not so interested right away, and so they talk about their children and their families...
and they talk and drink wine and more wine and talk some more. I do endless sidejobs, polish glasses, check on them every half hour or so, they don't need or want a lot of attention. But I'm there, close by, abstractedly eavesdropping....
The Cellphone Rings
And he takes the call...he's talking for a moment and then explodes at whoever is on the other end "What do you fucking mean! I'm pre-approved!!!".. and then the tone gets a little more conciliatory..."I make about a hundred, a hundred fifty thousand per year base salary, then there are dividends, another couple of hundred thousand a year...all told about half a million a year..."
He's without shame. This is possibly the most transparent and vulgar pick-up I've seen, worse even than the Bosses Nephew's suggestion that he be allowed to rape a girl in the ass...
When he's done giving out the intimates of his financial life he hangs up and apologizes to his date; "I have quite a temper" he confesses. There's no explaining why he was subject to the telephone audit, and she doesn't query him, it's a man's business after all...
I can't believe this hasn't been staged.
She's impressed with his temper and they leave shortly thereafter. Together.
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
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He's back in with his girlfriend. He had moved out, was living in the truck and there was the threat, for a few days, that he was going to come and stay on my sofa. But he's patched things up, she owes him money and so he swallowed his pride and moved back in. Just until he gets paid....
***
Saturday night and it's slow, in the book it's busy as all out but with the storm warnings and foot of snow people have been calling to cancel. And so he's sitting down by the hostess station and having me help him improve his English...
"How do you say 'I'm want to fucking rape your ass'? Is that right...No...'I'm going to fucking rape your ass'? Is that right?"
I assure him that in this instance his English is flawless. The waitresses just shake their heads. He likes the attention.
***
He's perpetually horny and groping the front of his trousers, pinching his manhood. Whenever there's a chance he's groping the waitresses, pushing himself up against them on the bar and playing with their hair, exploring and testing their limits...for a laugh, and to push things that little bit farther, he picks up a small knife off the bar and holds it against one of the waitresses throats while he rubs himself against her behind, practicing his perfected English: "I'm gonna fucking rape your ass, bitch...fucking..." and here his words drop off to grunts and moans. The waitress just bears it and shakes her head. When he's done I ask her how she explains a typical day at work to her boyfriend...oddly enough, it turns out she doesn't. And I think of all those law firms sued for millions by their pretty little interns who felt that a pinch or an inappropriate comment constituted harassment...
***
It's slower than expected, still OK, just not as busy as it looked initially. He's decided that he has a trace of the flu and so spends the evening sitting on the overstuffed chairs by the washroom, trying to persuade the 16 year old hostess to go out with him as soon as he's finished breaking off with his girlfriend. And when it's obvious that he's doing nothing he goes outside to have a cigarette, then comes back in and sits again in front of the washrooms. "I'm sick...." he explains. It's not particularly a busy night, but it's getting busier with his insistence upon doing nothing, you tease him lightly, hoping to get him off his ass to help out, but he's insensible, "I'm sick...." he says in that thick accent, then pinches his crotch yet again and calls the hostess over.....
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
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- Hits: 1375
Now these are the worst customers.
By which, to explain briefly, all the customers are his friends. But some are old friends, long standing, they have connections outside of the restaurant. And the closer they are, the closer they imagine they are, the worse they are as customers.
Older, middle aged men, between 55 and 60 years old. Single, divorced perhaps once or twice. They walk into the restaurant, don't speak to me or G or the bosses' nephew, they demand the boss, want to know if he's in (he's always in if we're open), help themselves to a table, stay late, too late, presume upon his hospitality, and even more amusing...
...as long as you're not a waitress....
....is the scene where the owner introduces them to the new waitress(es), offers them the chance to "date" them - (he would, only he's married), and then the waitress is left to fend for herself...
and the friends, they never get this skit, coming in again and again to try their luck with a girl (or girls) 30, 35 years their junior, promising them great jobs and houses and spending allowances if only they'd.....
It's slimy and appalling and a little like watching a train wreck. Nonetheless, for all of their money most of these men aren't especially socially skilled and come back again and again, ostensibly to visit the owner but really to check on the new prospects the owner has (laughingly) lined up for them. It's sad. They stay late, waiting for the waitress to get off work, tip badly, are rude to staff (the staff they're not interested in). They are the worst customers.
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: People
- Hits: 1398
"You Lazy" he says, then corrects himself: "You're lazy!".
He's annoyed because the new manager has called him lazy and told on him to his pa. Now the new manager isn't one exactly to be throwing stones, and really, it's such a small arena and we're all in it together and small trifles like this annoy him, annoy everyone.
It's true he's lazy, but he also puts in the overtime and shows up on his days off to make sure things are running smoothly. And he's the boss's nephew and so he's not going anywhere and like so many things in the restaurant, you just have to work around it.
So now he's trying to wind me up: "You Lazy" he says to me, hoping for some reaction. I just laugh. And he starts in on how he hates working with all the girls, girls have no place in this restaurant, it's fine dining, they're all lazy, they have no class, and I get to listen.