Summer in Montauk

The Right Oppurtunity

A bell jingles overhead as I walk into the small 50's cafe. It has everything you would expect from the name: checkerboard tiles, a long bar with ceramic salt and pepper shakers, and uniforms that include a rather pink blouse. For some reason, though, I like it. It smells like hamburgers and it serves a chocolate milkshake I'll have to try. The entire diner gives off a feeling of homeliness—something I've been in dire need of lately.

Another aspect that adds to the homely feel is petite plump woman who walks over to me. She has a rather high voice as she squeals, "You must be Sally! Come, come to the back to do all the fun scheduling and paperwork!" She makes the most boring part of applications sound genuinely fun. She's the type of woman I cannot imagine without a beaming smile on her face.

She gestures toward the back door. "My name is Cathy, dearie, I am just so glad you can make you. You're an absolute peach. My last employee was a piece of work and she just quit, just up and left, can you believe that? I mean, feel free to leave whenever you need to, but she was just tired of working here—"

Cathy loved talking, but I didn't mind. Better to have her voice spill up the space than ask the questions I didn't want to hear. Why aren't you in college, dearie? Those questions that are so obviously rude, yet people feel the need to intrude anyways. I could live the rest of my life never being asked another question, never forced to make a decision and give an answer, and be completely content. Unfortunately, questions were the foundation of a job in customer service.

As we walked into the back room, I noticed the disorganized rows of shelving. Nothing worrisome. Just without precise labeling. A girl with fiery, curly red hair that framed her sallow face was already in the cramped supply room, chewing gum and seemed to be restocking the shelves that ran across both sides of the room. She didn't even turn as we walked in.

There was a small desk in the back, and as I signed, Cathy and I went over what days would be best for both of us. "Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, yes?" She thought out loud, tapping her pen against the table.

"That sounds good." I replied politely. "So when do I start?" I asked.

"Could you start now?" Cathy asked hopefully, looking sadly at the red haired girl. "Penny gets a little lost."

As Penny's head turned, her hair was swept to the side and I saw headphones plugged into her ear. Not rude, then. Just distracted. Slightly better. They were the only two working, and Cathy looked worn.

I thought about Don, sitting in the car, waiting for me outside. But when I thought about Cathy and the work she would have to put in to serve customers, I felt empathy. I wanted to help her and her daughter. Their restaurant was understaffed, and I had the time to be here.

"Okay," I said. "I just need to go tell my friend outside that I'll be here until five. He was waiting on me, but I can catch the bus."

Cathy nudged Penny, who came to and took the headphones out. "That's perfect, just great. Go tell your friend, take your time, sweetheart." Cathy walked out of the room with a smile somehow even bigger than before.

Penny walked out, too, patting me on the shoulder, saying, "Welcome to the team." She was about my age, perhaps slightly younger, and I knew we could get along. When she smiled, I realized she wasn't hostile or anything of the sort. I knew what it was like to get lost in your own word. I knew very well.