LIV
The next Saturday morning, I work a shift at the diner.
The typical people come in: sleep deprived office workers desperate for cups of coffee, elderly couples who share plates of french toast, artists who sketch on napkins or type their next expert sentences onto computer screens.
This is my favorite shift to work, where it's relatively calm and everyone is kind to you.
One lady tells me I've got the prettiest eyes, and another man who tells me he used to be a waiter leaves me a few dollars extra tip for clearing his table.
I think of how working in a diner impacts you, causing you to be more respectful when you visit restaurants yourself because you learn how people can be. It's actually such a nice feeling to be on the receiving end of this line as opposed to being the one paying it forward.
In the two years I've worked here, earning minimum wage (give or take a few tips) to save up for my brighter future, Saturday morning shifts have always been my favorite.
This Saturday, however, poses to change that.
As I scrub the coffee rings off a table, a voice sounds from behind me. "Um, hello?"
I spin around, eyes falling on a blonde lady with her hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. She chews gum obnoxiously, her blue eyes piercing me so sharply that I have the urge to run away. The typical Karen image that comes to mind.
Like most of the time, I find myself blinking to get up to speed with the situation.
"I have been waiting for a table for ten minutes now." I think she's lying because my eyes have been flitting to the door every minute or so, but I keep my mouth shut. Meanwhile, she stares at me like I am the worst thing that ever happened to humanity.
Still, I fight the urge to be rude and paint a bright smile on my face. The artists in the room would be proud, I'm sure.
"I'm so sorry. Let me get this situated." I reach for the menus. "How many?"
"Do I look like more than one person?"
"No, I guess not." I face away from her, rolling my eyes.
"God, waitresses are getting so dumb these days." This lady keeps giving me reasons to grit my teeth and smile through; if I lash out, I know I'd lose my job in an instant, even if my manager would understand why. The customer comes first, right?
"Okay. Follow me." I basically throw her menu down on the table when we get to it. "Can I get you started with a cup of coffee?"
"Oh, yes please dear." Her teeth are scarily white when she flashes me a plastic smile, pulling out the chair. It scrapes against the ground and sends uncomfortable shivers up my spine.
As I walk away, I already know this shift is going to feel much longer than it typically would. It's a little past seven in the morning, and my next two hours are going to feel like millennia with her here.
"This isn't hot enough," she criticizes when I come back with a mug and pour the aromatic deep amber liquid into it. "It isn't even steaming." She rolls her eyes and when I offer to make her a fresh pot, she hesitantly declines and takes sips of her own fresh poured mug. I can tell by the way her lips purse that it is actually hot but she isn't willing to admit it to me.
I have the urge to punch the table.
"Are you ready to order? Or do you need a minute?"
"Just a minute, please." She laughs as if a joke was just shared between us, though I think that would be the last thing to ever happen.
"Alright, sure. I'll be back. Take your time!" I grin and spin on my heels, cursing whatever god gave her the attitude she currently possesses. My smile drops alarmingly fast.
After what can't be more than five minutes, I make my way back over to where she sits. And immediately, I see the look on her face that makes me want to scream.
"Took you long enough. Honestly, tempting me to talk to your manager. I'm not sure you deserve to hold this position," her eyes drop to my name tag. "Liv." Her words are dripping with venom. This is quite possibly the only time I've ever hated hearing my name in someone else's mouth.
"I'm sorry, I was busy."
"Really? There aren't even twenty people in here at the moment."
"I was cleaning tables for the next customers. I'm sorry. I take it that you're ready to order?" I raise my notepad to my eye view, my pencil held in the other hand.
"Yes." She clears her throat rather loudly. "I will take the pancakes with a side of bacon."
"Coming up!" I chirp, scribbling her order down and then clearing her menu and speed walking towards the kitchen. My mentality has come to be that the faster she's served, the faster she can leave.
In the back, I tell a few of my co-workers about her. We all bond over a hatred, even though I'm the only one who has had face-to-face interactions with her.
Soon enough though, I'm walking over to her table with both plates balanced on one arm. There's an odd sort of grimace on my face.
"Can I get more coffee please?" She asks. Right after I place her second plate down, she tilts the cup at odd angles to the left and to the right which causes the excess amount left to splash up onto my apron.
"Sorry!" She says, but there's no genuine intent I can detect in her tone.
"Yeah, I'll go get the pot. Is there anything else I can get for you?" I almost expect my eye to start twitching but it doesn't.
"That'll be all, I think!"
She's gone within twenty minutes, leaving a less than desirable tip. Honestly, I don't care though. However rude this sounds, her leaving is honestly enough extra tip in my mind.
On my ten-minute break, after blondie has finally left, I go out front and call my mom.
Pacing back and forth in front of the door, I try to take deep breaths. I have never ended up at 7-11 before three in the afternoon and honestly, I've never contemplated it more than I do as I wait for her to pick up the call.
"Hey. How's your shift going?"
"I'm so ready for it to be over," I sigh. "There was this super rude lady who called me stupid and got mad when I took more than three minutes to serve her. She even spilled coffee on me."
"Did I ever tell you about how I used to work at a coffee shop in New York?"
For some reason, even though mom can't see me, I shake my head. Still, she seems to understand and begins her story.
"There were rude people like that almost every day. They would rush me and spit insults if I did something not to their liking. Point is, you shouldn't have to put up with that but you're so strong."
"Oh. Thank you, mom. I have to get back, but I'll see you in an hour."
"See you soon. Bye!"
The coffee stain on my apron bothers me for the rest of the day, but mom's words stick in my head all the same.
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