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Monday, February 24, 2014

All the Nuts aren’t with The Pancake’s Part 10

That waitress is fucking nuts!” he says handing over his check to me. He loudly repeats it before looking around to see if anyone saw what happened and agrees with him.

Then he yells “I should get something free!”

“Yeah, we want something free!” his girlfriend chimes in lifting her head long enough to add in her two cents.

“Yeah, I should get something free!” he yells again but louder this time

“Where is the manager?” he asks swaying awfully close to the container of mints that sits on the counter between us. “Ah, cool mints,” he screams with delight when he discovers them. Then using his whole hand he scoops up the mints and holds them tight in his hand before he offering his girlfriend his fist. 

He slowly opens his hand, the mints are now stuck together and left a white powder residue that clings to his hand. She picks out a couple of mints, pops them in her mouth. Then he pops a couple into his mouth, t puts the remaining mints back in the container and wipes his hand on his pants. The white powder residue is now also on the front of his pants.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” I ask sweetly. He pauses a moment, looks skyward. I can see him thinking hard.

“Nope, that will do it!” He says with a big smile on his face, completely forgetting he demanded something for free from me and to speak to a manager.

Releasing his girlfriend’s hand, he feels his pockets with his hands and suddenly looking panicked feels and re-feels his pockets. Then relaxing, he pulls out his car keys. “Thought I lost them!” he screams with delight

His girlfriend leans with both hands hard on the counter, her head hanging forward on her neck.

He reaches out, grabs his girlfriends hand and they both stumble for the door. On their way out Anne, another waitress who is working tonight’s shift is rushing in. Her shoulder length hair flows straight out behind her. Management dictates that if it is shoulder length or longer that it must be pulled into a bun.

The two leaving customers bumble around her slowing her way into the restaurant. Anne smiles and moves them quickly out of the way.

“Sorry I’m late” she yells brushing past me. “Couldn’t find a sitter and the parking lot is packed to capacity!” With that said, Anne pushes through the kitchen door and disappears.

“Hey Skippy,” yells a rather large man in a flannel cut off shirt. He sits directly across from the register. “When you sashay over here, I need more coffee.” He makes little a tinker bell movement with his thumb and index finger. The woman across from him wearing all leather from head to toe, snorts at his remark, shakes her head and lights up a cigarette.



to be continued…

Geoffrey Doig-Marx holds all written and electronic rights to his writing "A Day in the Life/Down the Rabbit Hole". It cannot be reprinted in part or whole without his written consent.

Sunday, February 16, 2014

All the Nuts aren’t with The Pancake’s Part 9

“I am not in the mood for tonight!” Lois screams as she slides a second cigarette out of her pack and lights it off the one she is about to put out.

“God damn it!” she scream’s feeling the pack in her hand. “I am down to my last two cigarettes.” “I was so late I didn’t get a chance to stop and pick up another one.”

“How will I make it through tonight?”

Lois digs through her change purse pulling out several singles.

“Damn it,” she mutters “Now I will have to use the machine here and pay two extra freaking dollars!” She sticks her cigarette in the ashtray, blows out a puff of smoke pushes her way out through the swinging door and onto the floor. Lois stops at the register punches “No Sale,” sharply with her finger and the drawer pops open with a “Ping!”

Digging with her fingers in the quarters she exchanges her singles for a handful of quarters. The machine at the front door only accepts quarters and the cost for a pack of cigarettes here is $4.50. “Highway Robbery!” Lois yells out loud while counting quarters to no one.

A customer stumbles to the register his check is in one hand and his other is holding onto a drunken girl in tight spandex pants. Her lipstick is smeared and the man has some of it on his lips and cheek. Making out drunk at Denny’s seems to be part of the date.

Lois completely ignores him and continues counting out quarters. The man clears his throat and shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot.

“Excuse me miss,” the man stammers holding his check in the air “Could I pay this here?”

Lois quickly shoots the man a look that stops him cold. His arm stays suspended in the air.

“I’m not on the floor yet!” Lois hisses through clenched teeth at him. Her voice begins to rise “Do I look like I’m on the floor yet?”  “Huh? Do I?” “Do I look like I’m on the floor yet?”

The man slowly lowers his arm then looks at his girlfriend and back at Lois.

“Well actually, you do look like your on the floor.” Says the man meekly.

Lois stops counting, she pauses briefly and then looks at the man. “I do not start work until 11pm, I still have 5 minutes before I have to be on this floor.” “When I get on the floor I will be happy to cash out your check, serve you a freaking Moons Over My Hammy or anything else you might need.

With that said, she returns to counting quarters.

The clock on the wall behind Lois reads 11:10 pm. The man puts out one finger and points behind her at the clock. Lois turns around slowly to look at the clock, then turns back to the man. A lone tear forms in the corner of her eye and rolls down her cheek.

Michelle who has returned to the floor to finish her side work slides up next to Lois. “Are you ok? “ Michelle asks a clearly shaken Lois.

Lois shakes her head ‘no’ and her lower lip begins to tremble.

I am standing at the wait stand in the middle of the restaurant watching this unfold. Michelle quickly scans the restaurant looking desperately for someone to help. Our eyes meet again. Michelle widens her eyes, which is clearly a plea for help from me.

As Michelle grabs a sobbing Lois by the elbow and takes her back into the kitchen, I slide in behind the register.

“How was everything? I ask, summoning up the most chipper voice I have.


To be continued…

Geoffrey Doig-Marx holds all written and electronic rights to his writing "A Day in the Life/Down the Rabbit Hole". It cannot be reprinted in part or whole without his written consent.

Sunday, February 9, 2014

All the Nuts aren’t with The Pancake’s Part 8

Within 5 minutes of being here I have agreed to take over most of the tables, that way the staff on the dinner shift can clean up and go home. I will help them out, after I have a final cigarette.

Every waitress on the floor has come crawling to me on their knees while I have been in the back, begging me to take over their tables. They are clear on what the terms are if I do so. It’s sad to be begged by someone in their 40s who is willing to give you their kids, their house and a dinner date with their husband just so they can leave the floor? “I mean, come on, and how bad can it be out there?” Michelle makes a “snort” noise in response.

Hopefully, I will have fresh patience since I just got here. I think for a minute. “Nah,” I say answering my own question. Drunk people suck when you have to wait on them. It is guaranteed, that someone at one of the tables will refer me to as a fag. Or maybe make a “mincing” movement while I am talking. Or maybe they will deliver the all time favorite motion “the limp wrist.”

I quickly develop a shield around me and can usually “zing” a drunk. People love a sassy gay waiter when they are bombed, but be careful it’s not too much. There is a line. I learn to develop several personalities to get by. “Straight Gay, Funny Gay, Not Gay, Quiet Gay, or the “What did you say Motherfucker Gay?”

“These fuckers are drunk and rowdy,” I say out loud to no one, taking a drag on my cigarette. I keep one eye on the swinging kitchen door as I exhale the smoke. I make a silent prayer. “It will turn into a quiet night that’s busy and I will make lots of money, Amen.” As I stub out my cigarette my prayer is heavenly answered by the sound of glasses smashing to the floor. It sounds like the glasses are falling by the desert station. It happens all the time.

The floor over there is made of hard brick. It is a pain in the ass to clean anything up once it drops in that area. The main problem is it is both the path to the bathroom for the customers, a quick walk to the front door and the path to the kitchen all intersect. If you’re quick you may pass without a problem. Unfortunately, many a wreck has happened here.

I stick my head out to look. I can see Michelle almost on her hands and knees. In one hand she is holding a dustpan, in the other she is using a sweep brush and pushing broken glass into it. Standing above her is a skinny girl balancing on one high heel; the other leg is dangling in the air. The girl grips the counter to steady herself.

“Im soooooooooooo sorrrrrrrrry,” the girl slurs at the top of her voice. Michelle leans back when the girl is teetering dangerously close to falling on her. Michelle pauses, then turns her head to face the girl, when she see’s me standing with my head sticking out of the kitchen door. Rolling her eyes at me and mouths the word “See?”

Then she loudly and sarcastically exclaims to the girl, “No problem at all, I totally have this.”

“You’re the best…..the best.” the girl says while patting Michelle on the shoulder. Then the girl turns and walks straight into the counter. “Wham!” but bouncing off she begs of the counter to “Excuse me”. I watch her stumble into the bathroom.

It is quickly becoming time for the rest of the Graveyard shift to show up when I step out to the floor ten minutes early. My cigarette is finished; I have everyone’s checks and I am easing around the corner. I check my hair in the mirror above the pies.

That’s when I see Lois and Paul pulling into the parking lot. Whoever is driving the car, is in a hurry. When the car stops at the front door, the passenger door pops open, Lois swings her legs out of the car and hits the pavement running. As she comes sprinting through the front door, I hear the glass rattles, as the door slams shut behind her.
Lois’ hair is almost up in a bun but the sides are hanging out in big pieces. She is stuffing bobby pins into hair as she rushes past me.

As I I follow, Lois empties her arms of everything that she is holding on the break table, then she pulls a Virginia Slim out of her bag and lights it. Exhaling she looks at me and explains, “Traffic, and then Paul was late, I overslept, the alarm got shut off because we haven’t had the full power and his Mother is an asshole!” She blows smoke into the air.

I get the general idea as to what kind of day and state Lois is in. As she finishes pulling her hair up into a bun clenches her cigarette between her teeth.

“I tell you, it’s not sometimes that she has something to say, its pretty damn often that she has everything to say.” Lois puts one finger in the air as if reprimanding someone that I can’t see.

“Paul’s Mother?” I ask

Lois throws both her hands in the air. “That woman! Someday I will send her packing and on a trip!”

to be continued…..

Geoffrey Doig-Marx holds all written and electronic rights to his writing "A Day in the Life/Down the Rabbit Hole". It cannot be reprinted in part or whole without his written consent.

Sunday, February 2, 2014

All the Nuts aren’t with The Pancake’s Part 7

The weekend finally comes and tonight I get my own tables at Denny’s to wait on. No more following or trailing another server, my training is complete. 

As I pull into the parking lot, I can see that the place is packed. Packed with drunks. Packed to the brim with drunks. I can see people jumping around through the giant windows that face the parking lot. It literally looks like an out of control party is going on.

My shift starts at 11pm but I always like to arrive one half hour before I am supposed to start work. That way I can ease into the night, start with a cup of coffee and a cigarette. I park, turn off the ignition and spend a few extra moments in my car, taking deep breaths. I can already see what kind of night I am in for. I can’t sit here all night. If I’m going to go in, it’s now or never.

As I walk up the cement path to the store, drunks stumble by me on the way to their cars. It’s the 80s, so drinking and driving is pretty much acceptable and often talked about as a rite of passage.

As I open the front door one girl stumbles by me before falling headfirst in the bushes, literally five steps from the front of the restaurant. Her friend falls in after her as she tries to help. The two of them lay on the ground laughing and trying to get up. I walk past without offering to help either of them and push open the door. Denny’s is standing room only. I have to excuse myself and push through people so I can get into the place.

The staff from the 4-11pm shift is so happy to see me they ask me if I can get on the floor right away. That way they can leave the floor let me finish up their tables and turn the tips over to them. So I get to finish up their drunk and abusive patrons before I get to have my own.

One of the waitresses, Michelle grabs my elbow on my way past her as I head into the kitchen. She leans into my ear and loudly whispers, “Table 12 is full of assholes! Can you please finish it up for me?” I look her in the eyes and she repeats “Please?” Her eyes plead for help. I get it she is done. I nod my head to acknowledge what she is asking of me. She doesn’t even let me get into the kitchen before she hands all of her checks over to me.

The employee break room is literally one step inside the kitchen door. There is a table attached to the wall piled high with empty glasses, newspapers and ashtrays overflowing with half smoked cigarettes.


I take a deep breath.


To be continued…

Geoffrey Doig-Marx holds all written and electronic rights to his writing "A Day in the Life/Down the Rabbit Hole". It cannot be reprinted in part or whole without his written consent.

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