Heather Meza

No One Stays

“Chase seriously, I’ll play you for it.  Come on man throw me a bone.”

“Fine, single round elimination, one two three…”

 “Rock”

“Paper”

“Crap Chase, I hate that table, best two of three?”

“Not a chance Brent, it’s all yours”

Section B, table 13, well, you would just have to know that it would be trouble.   The problem is that there is nothing wrong with that table or even that section, the trouble is that it is next to section A, table 12.  Sounds nice and innocent right?  If you are the “Sorry Joe” that’s the last to show up for 3^rd shift on any given night you know why table 13 is the worst. Tonight I showed up last, therefore I got last pick and go figure the only choice was section B table 13.  You would think that getting to work 15 minutes before your shift would be enough.

“Good evening, and welcome to Applebee’s.  My name is Brent and I’ll be your server, can I start you with an appetizer or drink... Great I’ll get that right out to you.”

“Here we are sir, enjoy the drink, your wings will be up very soon.  Oh yes sir, I’m sorry, that is a loud bunch, I’ll mention it to the manager.”

Here we go, first hour of the shift and section A table 12 is already irritating my table.  Really it’s not that I mind them, they are funny, they run up a huge tab, and they give great tips, plus it can be a real perk to know them.  What I do mind is being the one with the table next to them.  I do mind going home with next to nothing in my pocket.

“Your wings.  How’s that drink sir, ready for another?  No sir, it’s not my table I can’t say anything directly to them, I will send my manager over to talk with you.”

“Hey Bob, you know the drill, table 13 is pissed about the noise at table 12, try to calm them down will you?  Thanks man.”

Maybe if “Super Manager” Bob intervenes he’ll make my table happy enough to stay through their meal, oh well, it wouldn’t be a first if they didn’t.  My first time to get the cursed table 13 was such a disaster I almost quit on the spot.  In four hours I had that table sat five times, sheer madness.   Only one group actually stayed for their meals to come out, but they were so angry by the time they left, you can only guess what kind of tip I got.  It is not entirely unlikely to work an entire shift and not get a single a tip on that table.  Hell, it’s more of a surprise when you do.

“Another drink sir?  Oh, well sir your dinner will be out very soon, it is the next ticket up.  Are you sure?  Yes, I understand, have a good evening.”

Crap!  One down, how many more tonight? If I’m lucky only two… please just two more.  Just my luck I have the shittiest table and the fasted bussers around, ok just remember the ‘happy face.’

“Good evening Welcome to Applebee’s, my name is Brent, I’ll be your server tonight.  Can I start you with a drink or an appetizer?  Yes, the combo is quite large, great for sharing.  I’ll put that in right away.”

Good thing they ordered bar drinks, maybe the wont be bothered by them if they drink enough.  Better hurry, the faster I get my table their liquor the better chance I have of keeping them there.

“Here are you’re drinks, and that combo will be right out.”

“Hey Chase, any chance your group will have to leave early tonight?

“Probably not, I have already heard them talking about why they weren’t here last night, duh Brent, you know they normally don’t run two jobs back to back, gotta let things cool off a bit.”

Crap, oh well it was worth a thought, better get that combo out, bark like a dog and climb like a monkey to keep these women happy.  I’ve seen them tip really well when they get their way.

“Ladies, here’s your combo and your entrees should be out in a few minutes.  Would you like more drinks, plates, silverware, anything?  Just let me know.  Enjoy”

Could this be the one that stays?  No, crap what is Bob doing there?  Where are they going?   Shit, come on, insane do you know what happens to those plates that don’t get served?  We pay for half of them, at the end of our shifts, at this rate; I’m leaving with less than I came to work with.  Tomorrow I’ll get here 20 minutes early, hell maybe tomorrow I’ll get a new job.

“Hey Bob, what the hell man, they were fine when I walked away?

“You know how it goes, they say something that strikes a nerve and that’s all she wrote.  Don’t worry about it Brent, those meals hadn’t even come up yet, no loss, no pay.”

Gee thanks Bob, what generous guy you are.  Three more hours, why can’t they just leave, or take over that table too, why leave it behind?  There are three tables at the bar, why crowd around two when you can lounge around three?  Maybe I should pitch that idea to them, and then Chase and I will work it together and reap the rewards together.  Yes, that’s it, it might just work.

“Hey guys how are you tonight?  I heard you guys were busy last night… yeah it was so quite in here.  You know I was thinking that you might want to use that table too, now that those chicks are …”

“Brent, get away from my table man, we are not sharing. This is not the Brady Bunch.”

Why didn’t I talk faster, damn Chase selfish bastard, what harm would it do to share.  What does he have to lose?  I should have played scissors, not rock, what the hell is a rock good for anyway?    

“Fine, just don’t ask me to run any drinks for you while you go smoke whatever that is you’re smoking out there.”

Ha, that’ll get their attention.  Crap another table, shit they are old, what the hell are old people doing out his time of night anyways, don’t they have some Andy Griffith to watch or a bedtime at the old folk’s home or something?

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen.  You guys look very dapper tonight, just coming in from the Fox?  Oh yes, I heard that was a great show.  Well, my name is Brent and I’ll be taking care of you tonight, what can I start you off with?  Sounds great, I’ll put that right in.”

On the bright side maybe they will just turn down their hearing aides and actually finish a meal.  I can’t believe the nursing home doesn’t have a curfew.  I’m doomed, if the last two didn’t make it, there is no way the Centrum Silver crowd will hang.  Oh well, old people tip, so I better keep up the show.

“Here you go, four iced teas, and your meals are almost ready.  Can I get anything else for you?  No?  Well then I’ll be back soon… Sir?  Yes sir they are quite loud.  No sir, but I can tell my manager you would like to speak with him, his name is Bob, I’ll send him out.”

Again, another unhappy crowd, maybe Bob can talk them into taking their meals to-go at least.  Almost two hours left in this shift from hell and those damn Narcotic detectives at that damn table 12 have ruined my will to go on.  I hate this table; no one stays to finish a meal with them sitting there. I just want to get through one shift without paying for more meals than I could eat in a week.  I just want to get here in time to not get this table; I want to get that table.  If I have to say ‘Good evening and … Brent, blah blah blah, …  be right back, blah blah blah’  one more time tonight I think I may puke.  I feel like that damn teacher on Peanuts. 

That’s it; I have to talk to Bob.  Where is Bob?  Go figure out back with Chase, those two how can they stand there and smoke that with those Narcs here all the time?  Damn, talk about pushing it. I mean can’t they smell it, everyone else can. 

“Bob, it is sick sadistic and twisted to separate those tables and screw over a member of your own wait staff.  All this time I thought I should be mad at them; I thought it was their fault for being loud enough to piss people off.  But dammit Bob, what the hell, you’re the ‘boss’ around here and you’re the one who set the sections that way and you’re the one who keeps them that way and you’re the one who lets them sit here every friggin night and run off customers because you don’t want to piss off the Narcs.  Well, to hell with you, and them, and this god forsaken job that costs me money just to work.  I QUIT!”

Draft exchange report:

This story is purely speculative fiction based on a real setting.  My cousin is an undercover narcotics agent and hangs at the local Applebee’s with other cops and detectives most nights.  They are a loud bunch and I have witnessed other tables leaving in disgust.  It made me wonder hat it would be like to be the waiter for one of those tables.  When I started it Bob was just the manager with no specific role or complication, but as it progressed I wanted to add a twist to it. 

I showed the beginnings to Tami in class and she thought it was an interesting way to present the story.  She suggested a plot twist so that it was not a simple unhappy employee story which later helped me develop the Bob situation.  I also sent a copy via email to her and Johnny.  I asked for any specific suggestions or if any parts were confusing, but I did not want to send any explanation of the writing style so I would not influence their perception of it. 

Johnny replied:

The story reads pretty smoothly as it is just dialogue and the narrator's thoughts. It was very easy to read but you might just want to check it over for punctuation problems. My only problem was with the style in which you wrote the story, and the problems lie more with the style and less with the writer. Character development is difficult. I notice the whole story is a little vague and it looks like it might be intentional, so you may not have wanted to develop the characters, especially as the main character seems to be the only one that matters. If you wanted to develop him more, you could just add exposition to his character traits through his thoughts. If you wanted to develop the others more, you can just add more dialogue. Actually, I had one other problem, also with character development. The noise makers are not really developed beyond the point that they are old and loud. The reader knows nothing else about them, so the reference to them being narcs seems out of place. I would cut them out or develop the characters more. Also, if you wanted them to seem more mysterious, you could cut out the reference to them being old. That would turn them into almost a mythological like character to which the other patrons of the restaurant are sacrificed. I also like the customers leaving as a measurement of time. Originally, I wanted a reference to time passing but I like the way you did it. It is more in line with the way the story is written.

Johnny

After reading his thoughts and reviewing a copy that I printed I made many minor grammatical changes and added to the exposition in some area to better build the irritation of Brent through his use of language.  As the evening progresses his tongue gets a bit sharper every time he is walking to and from the table.  My intention was to give the reader a building sense of his feelings without labeling them as such. 

I was appreciative of Johnny’s comment about the time passing because I really didn’t want to use hours, but I also did not wan the movement to cease.  I have worked in restaurant and have learned that the best judge of time is often how many tables you’ve served, not the hands no your watch.  I was glad to know that a reader would be able to gauge the passing of the shift as well. I can not wait to send this to my cousin and hear his take on the whole idea.

In the end, I was already relatively happy with the story and probably would have had no second thoughts about turning in the original, but I enjoyed getting the feedback from my peers before hand just to affirm that it is a decent story and the tense was constant (one of my weaknesses).  The final and original are pretty similar except that the end is expanded to complicate Bob a little more, give him motive for being so tolerant of the cops.  It is written entirely in first person limited because the focus is the waiter and I felt that too much outer development would distract from him.