Olly, Olly

Chapter 1. Pennies

I saw him for the first time standing at the entrance of the parking lot. I could tell that he was far from at peace, as he was alone, and quickly pacing back and forth. He seemed entranced and in deep thought. I stood by the front door of the restaurant, still planted in place where I first spotted him. I was scheduled to work tonight. My heart desired to go towards him, but it wasn't my place to fill. So, I just stood there for what seemed like hours. I had to restrain myself from crying. I suddenly felt my eyes warm as they held tears on standby, ready to run at any moment. He seemed so distant from what had been his home all of his life. I could tell he was mumbling something to himself, but from this distance, there was no way of making any of it out. So— I just stood there, still holding my gaze upon him, this was the only form of embrace I could offer him at this moment. Suddenly his reality quickly filled up with actual living bodies in a blink of an eye. I watched as his family abruptly surrounded him. Quickly filling the space where his thoughts seemed to have occupied— just moments prior.

His parents and grandmother came immediately towards him after exiting the car, that they had parked out of place. His two sisters also came rushing from the back exit of the restaurant. I was immediately released from the hold of compassion and curiosity that had built up, as I stood planted and entranced from afar. I stole another glance as I exhaled deeply in a form of release. My eyes forced themselves closed upon being liberated, in some odd form of relief. I forced in a couple deep gasps of air, as I started to take steps towards the front door. I realized my breath had grown shallow the more I fixated on him, I was trying to make up for the air that I seemed to be lacking at the moment, as I first spotted him.

                              ***

The restaurant was busy and meeting its capacity. After greeting and kissing some of my co-workers on the cheek 'hello,' I made my way to the 'back of house.' The 'back of the house,' is just restaurant lingo for behind the scenes; in this case— the 'kitchen.' The back of house was just as crazy, people running around, plates clicking and clacking as they were in motion to their destination. The fryer and grills were sizzling in the background and a heavy stream of water ran as it filled the three compartment dish sink, trying to keep up with the loads of dishes that kept pilling up. I walked through— more liked weaved through, trying to avoid crashing into anyone. I made my way to my locker in the employee area that stood outside of the employee bathrooms. I hung my jacket in my locker and placed my bag inside, turned off my iPod, pulling the buds off in one quick motion and made sure to wrap the cord around it. I placed it in my bag, to make sure not to misplace this one. After a quick glance in the mirror and washing my hands, I made my way to storage to grab an apron from the cage. I double wrapped the apron strings around my waist and snuggly tied it in the front. I headed through the double doors and so my shift began.

I was assigned to one of the side stations today, it was one of the smaller stations. Oddly enough named, station thirteen. It was not a favored station among the waitstaff, due to the fact that while most stations had six or seven tables, this section only had four. I foresaw that I'd probably be walking into this assigned station since I asked to be scheduled for a later time today. I had some errands I needed to get done, including picking up that new iPod; replacing my previous one, that I had misplaced. Most servers frowned upon being assigned to this station. Granted, it wasn't my favorite either since losing two to three tables brought in less money, but the trick to this station was exceeding customer expectations. It was one of those qualities over quantity, life lessons. Working smarter not harder! Whoever was scheduled here, usually, had more free time. Fewer tables meant fewer customers, so every penny had to count. Yet, at the end of it, you still found yourself at the mercy of the generosity of your customers.

Being a server, we are mentally built to have the 'get them in and out mentally.' The more tables we turned, the more tips we'd make. This station though was hard to build up to that pace. It was tucked away in the back right corner of the restaurant. The restaurant was shaped like an upside down, 'L' and the entire dining room was surrounded with windows, but this section sat in the corner angle and was less appealing— because it faced the parking lot. From the angle of this station, I could see the Cartagena family still rooted in the parking lot. Noticing one sister had left the gathering.