February 2001 · Narrative vignette — a shift, walked through as it happened.
The people in this one were real. Their names have been changed.
It was a brisk afternoon, one of those days when the wind seemed to blow through one’s body, stealing away the heat along with it. The walk was nothing unusual for Tony—a routine commute to work from his downtown efficiency that stood only five blocks to the west of the restaurant where he worked as a waiter. His roommate, a twenty-six year old man named Oscar walked alongside him. Both men smoked their cigarettes like an act of defiance against the weather, striding purposefully toward the The Spaghetti Works. As Tony carried on a conversation with Oscar—something concerning Oscar’s latest escapades at the clubs—his eyes darted all around, absorbing everything. His thoughts were always on a million different things at once, and since he was about to go to work, he tried to remember who was working that evening, what section of tables would he wait on, who was managing, were there any parties, how many people were going to call in tonight?
It was Friday, and Fridays and Saturdays were the busiest of days for the restaurant, but also the most profitable. While not an upscale, high-class place, The Spaghetti Works was a high-volume restaurant, and waiters in good sections were apt to make a worthwhile bit of cash by the end of the night. The two men stepped up to the side entrance, which was actually the door between the patio and lounge, and walked inside. From their first glances, they could see that two servers had already arrived, and although not yet working, had donned their aprons and name tags.
“Hey, Fred, Frank. How’s it going?” asked Tony as he shuffled past the two servers who sat at the bar and turned the corner to clock in. Oscar threw off his jacket, (recently acquired from Tony during a trip to Washington, DC) and joined Frank and Fred at the bar, lighting a new cigarette. With ten minutes remaining until four o’clock, Tony decided to run upstairs into the manager’s office and get a glimpse at the schedule, to see which servers would be allocated to which tables. A man of medium stature sat behind his desk, upon which a cigarette filled the room with smoke as it sat in an ashtray.
“Hi George. How’re you doin’ today? Gonna be busy? Lemme see where I’m at tonight?” Tony asked as walked around the desk to glance at the schedule in progress. “I’m in C, huh? Good money, anyway! Off to work, I guess,” he said as he darted down the stairs and threw on his apron and name tag.
Composed 2001 · part of the Short Stories collection · authorship documented on the Provenance page.