I hope you enjoy this excerpt from "The Prick at Table 28." Thank you very much for reading.
As the waitress approached the customer’s table, he focused on her name tag: "Helen Albright" stood out in gold cursive on her black tailored vest. The man opened his notebook and pulled a pen from the chest pocket of his plaid, short-sleeved shirt. Sunlight pouring through the blinds caused him to squint; before he closed the shades he admired the sights outdoors: the branches of a magnolia tree swaying in the breeze; a cluster of bees hovering over a patch of multicolored begonias in the front garden; a little girl, chocolate smeared around her mouth and making a funny face, waving at him through the window.
“Well, hello!” he said, returning his attention to the server.
“How are we today?” the waitress, thirtyish, asked.
“Just fine,” he answered. “Starving.” He couldn’t help noticing a nail-file stuffed in her waist pouch among the straws and spare napkins.
“What can I get ya?” she said, regarding his pen and paper. The man scribbled on his notebook as he ordered.
Helen listened to what he wanted but didn’t write it down. “All right, I’ll put this in for you.”
“Thank you, Helen.”
That was the first time in years that Helen had been called by her name. Rarely did customers make a point of addressing their server personally, especially her. “You’re welcome,” she said, scratching her head. “What’s with the pad and pen? If you don’t mind my asking.”
He flicked the pad with his ring finger. “Have you never seen these items before?”
Helen let out a nervous chuckle. “Of course I’ve seen them before. It’s just that I’ve never waited on a customer who takes notes during a meal.”
“Gotcha. Let’s just say…before I leave you’ll know all about it.”
“O…kay,” Helen said. Then she walked away.
The man spent over an hour at the diner. He ate a three-course meal and made numerous notes on his pad. His check had been placed on his table; next to the total, a smiley face and a few words: "Have a nice day! Helen."
As Helen walked past his table, he handed her the bill and some cash. “We’re all set, Helen. You have a nice day too.”
On her way to the register she glanced at the money he had given her. Suddenly she stopped walking—she had received only a dollar tip on a twenty-five-dollar tab. She wanted to go over to the customer and tell him how cheap he was, how inconsiderate. Helen had received below average tips in the past, but nothing as despicable as what this heartless man had left her. How insulting, she thought.
Helen approached the man’s table; he was taking a sip of his soda. “Do you have a moment?” she said, her voice unsteady. Tension, frustration, and disappointment were churning inside her. She cleared her throat, took a quick breath through her nose.
“Sure,” the man said. “I’m in no rush.”
“May I ask your name?”
“You can ask…but it doesn’t mean I have to tell you,” he said playfully.
Helen was not feeling jocose. She discreetly glanced around her to make sure no one, especially her boss, was paying attention to her. The everyday ruckus of the diner—scattered conversations, plates, glasses, and silverware clashing, servers shouting to each other over the bustle of production, pots and pans being manhandled in the kitchen—easily drowned out her and the man’s conversation.
“Were you happy with your meal, sir?”
“Quite. Food was delicious. As always. Name’s Ernie, by the way.”
“Well, then, Ernie, I have to ask.” Helen could feel every part of her body becoming tense, sweaty. Her hands were moist; she wiped them on her apron. This was the first time she had ever confronted a customer; it was harder than she thought, as if her mind and body were anticipating a slugfest. She felt uncivilized in many ways, as if she was about to violate some strict ethical code—but she was determined to stand her ground and face the repercussions, whatever they might be. “Since you were so satisfied with your meal, why did you give me only a dollar tip?”
“I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but that’s all your service was worth.”
“Excuse me?” Helen shot back, her voice, her visage, imbued with strain. As she contemplated a defense, she licked her lips and nibbled on her bottom lip. In her peripheral vision she noticed some people staring. She was so disgusted she didn’t care that she had aroused their attention. And Ernie’s calmness only exacerbated her anxiety. Did he not care that she depended on good tips to pay the rent on her apartment? That this was her second job, an important source of income? And that her primary employer might have to reduce her hours or eliminate her position entirely?
“I think I’ve been clear, Helen. Sorry to have hurt your feelings, but I’m not someone who’s afraid of speaking his mind. I may be many things…but I’ve always prided myself on being candid.”
Helen folded her arms in front of her. “I want to know what I did to deserve that pittance you call a tip.”
Only a few customers in the vicinity were aware that something was amiss, and they were careful not to stare. Helen showed no concern for whoever might have been watching her. She nervously raked her fingers through her long red hair and repeatedly licked her lips, soon dissolving her peach-colored lipstick. Traces of sweat were visible on her forehead, just below her wispy hair.
Ernie nodded slightly. “If you must.” He reached for his notebook and opened to a page in the middle. One of Helen’s co-workers called to her from the front counter. Without turning around, Helen held up her finger, telling her to wait. Ernie found the page he was looking for. “Would you like to sit down?” he asked.
Scowling, Helen shook her head robotically.
“Well, then,” Ernie said, “I’ll get right to it: For starters, when I came in here and sat down you took almost ten minutes to take my order, yet I saw your boss tell you that a customer had been seated. You were chatting with your gal pals over there, the brunette to be precise. Then you took my order without writing it down. Big mistake, which went terribly wrong: I got mustard on my sandwich when I asked for it on the side. I got regular soda instead of diet soda—and was never offered a refill. Shall I continue?”
Helen rolled her eyes, and now her left hand was fingering the straws in her apron; with her thumb she fidgeted with the rings on her right hand, and shifted her weight from one leg to the other. “Haven’t you ever made a mistake, sir?”
“Of course I have, Helen. Countless. But I’m not the waitress now, am I? Nor do I work in a business which requires reliable customer service to fatten your paycheck.”
“You’re being unfair,” Helen said. “I should call my boss over here and see how he feels about this.”
“Go right ahead, Helen. I’d be happy to tell him what I just told you. And whether you like it or not, you cannot deny my observations. In fact... there are more.”
“Oh, really,” Helen said sarcastically. “How else did I wrong you, sir? What more could I have done to warrant my hefty buck?”
Ernie ran his fingers down the paper. “Now that you mention it: I never got a place setting; I had to borrow one from the table behind me,” he said, pointing his thumb over his shoulder. “I called to you twice to get extra napkins. Both times you were engrossed in a conversation about shoes; I could tell by the way you kept pointing at yours, modeling them for the other girls. That was the first time I called to you. The second time you were staring at your nails as if watching them grow. You women love staring at your nails, don’t you?”
Helen resisted sparring with him further. But Ernie had more to say. “Let’s not forget that you charged me for French fries but I got potato chips instead; ice in my soda when I specified no ice. As you can see, Helen, I’m not making this up. I may be different from your other customers—but I’m a paying customer all the same. Ask your coworkers how I’ve tipped in the past. When the service is good.”
Helen was downright humiliated. She couldn’t refute his critiques nor could she let go of her mounting desire to vent her hostilities. Who did he think he was to stand in judgment of a waitress? What could possibly have given him the urge to note a person’s inadequacies right in front of them? And for what? To harass them? To publicly belittle them? Although Helen wanted to retaliate in some way, she did everything she could to squelch the urge. “What are you hoping to get out of all this, Ernie? Huh?”
“What every customer wants: superior service.”
“Give me a break. How twisted you sound.”
“I’m being quite serious, young lady. Too many people go out to eat, or spend their money at various places, and walk away unsatisfied, cheated, if you will. I decided long ago that change was in my own hands. People are afraid of confrontation—they’re too timid. Sometimes I am too. But I write down every little slip up and address the problems as I see fit. Even if nothing gets fixed, at least I did something about it.”
Helen was quiet, thinking, squinting; her leg was cocked back, her black-sneakered foot tapping the floor. Heavy perspiration caused by the bright over-the-table chandelier had smeared her eye makeup.
“My actions may not get me anywhere,” Ernie continued, “but I feel better having sorted them out. Now that I think about it, I’m sure you kept a journal as a young girl. Well…this is mine.”
“Weird. Very weird,” Helen said. “On this beautiful day all you could think to do with your precious time was sit here and write down comments about the way I work? Time well spent, huh?”
“With that attitude you belong on the unemployment line. I mean, would you have felt the same way if all my notes were positive and you got a twenty, thirty percent tip? Or better?”
Helen groaned and then, rolling her eyes, meandered toward the counter. Ernie got up and left—hopefully forever, she prayed.
Not a week later Helen was conversing with one of her co-workers when Ernie came through the door. Helen cringed. Another nice day now tarnished by that arrogant, picayune excuse for a man; her friend April, much to her surprise, seemed eager to wait on him. “You gotta be kidding me, April. That guy’s a total creep. And the worst tipper.”
“Not to me he wasn’t. I had him in my section two days ago. You were off that day. He gave me a ten-dollar tip on a five-dollar tab.”
“What? You serious?”
“Yup,” April said. “Creep or not, he’s generous.”
Grinding her teeth, Helen grabbed the edge of the counter and looked up at the ceiling.
“Look, Helen,” April said, “he’s in your section. If you don’t want to wait on him, I will.”
Helen didn’t hesitate to give up her table. “He’s all yours.”
By the time Ernie had a chance to sit down and relax April had already helped him take his jacket off and hung it on the coat rack. She placed a menu before him, along with a diet coke and a straw. “Here you go, sir, and good afternoon!”
Ernie was beaming. “Why, thank you, April!” He pointed at her shirt. “I remember your nametag. Most people overlook those things.”
Helen had been watching her friend effortlessly take care of the customer that had last week ruined her entire day. April was handling the whole situation with ease and grace, which made Helen feel jealous and inadequate. After all, most of Helen’s customers adored her, went out of their way to acknowledge her even when they weren’t seated in her section. She was well liked by her co-workers yet an interaction with one customer, whom she had met only once, had somehow marred her self-image, her self-esteem.
After Ernie had eaten and left, Helen caught up to April at the waitresses’ station. “I gotta know, April, how much did he leave you this time?”
“Ten dollars on a twelve-dollar tab.”
Helen glared at the floor, one she would have to mop to a sparkle later. Face reddened as evil thoughts consumed her.
A very interesting read. And a great play on the characters' thoughts and conversation. I have had to wait on a waitress/waiter if I asked, it was quickly corrected. One time, at a restaurant in Corpus Christi, the fancy seafood place didn't have scallops on the menu. When I asked, the waiter brought me a huge platter of scallops at a lower cost than anything on the menu!
But, as far as the way some people perceive themselves, I recall quite a few at work, who didn't have time to learn new things that would help them work more efficiently, but lots of time to talk rather than working and make sure they picked up their paycheck for not working promptly.
And then, there is my tenant. She is clean, and always pays her rent on time. Kind and sweet when she wants something from me, but she is often very sullen and unwilling to even return my "hello" when I see her in the kitchen. Always complaining profusely about every little thing instead of just asking for me to do something about it. I usually buy or fix whatever is necessary, promptly. As a waitress, I can picture her being Helen. She has told me she had trouble at work, while they seem to value her as an employee, giving her overtime when not giving it to others.
In the beginning, I thought that Ernie might be a restaurant critic, taking notes. But, he turned out to be a regular customer making a serious effort to use his notes of bad/good service to determine his tips. Something that I rarely did, just giving a 15% tip unless I got bad service and gave something like 10%.
This is so accurate in describing how some people think. The waitress thinking she’s a victim of outer circumstances, not seeing her own role in what happened to her, even when she was quite friendly given good feedback on it. And Ernie on his hand, knowing he has a part to play in making his and other customers service better. I like the title and the way it sets up the readers mind for disliking Ernie, only to find he is not the prick at all. Very clever and enjoyable read!
A page-turning novel about a relationship between best friends that is interrupted because of betrayal , deceit, sexual promiscuity and pregnancy happens!
Spoken Word
This CD will touch the deepest inner part of your humanness and spirit, you will never be the same after listening to the depths of struggle, the reality of life, the touching voice of truth. It will shock you, move you to tears. It w
