Continued:
Still no food. I went inside to use the bathroom, and there was Darla, barreling out of the kitchen. She saw me headed for the bathroom, jumped in front of it to block the door, arms and legs spread out, and said, “Hey! HEY! Remember in the old days, you hadda pay 10 cents to pee?! Well, I got bad news for yah, mister!”
Then she laughed really loudly and got out of the way and went back in the kitchen.
I need to point out that, regardless of all this, MrsT and I weren’t angry, or even slightly perturbed. We both understood that she was losing her job, as were the other folks, and she was taking it hard, and so we cut her a mile-and-a-half of slack.
Back outside, sat back down, Darla came over again and said, “Y’know, y’all are all right. Yer all right, and yer gonna be mad as shit when I tell yah…I fergot tah putcher sandwiches in. I’m sorry, I’m real sorry, but I fergot, and’ so they’re jus’ now makin’ ‘em. But I’m gonna get ‘em out to yah, and I’m gonna give yah another beer on the house.”
“Don’t worry about it, if it’s not a problem, can you just box them up to go and we’ll pay, it’s another hour for us to get home.”
“Oh…I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Lemme jus’ get that beer and-“
“No, really, it’s ok, and I shouldn’t be drinking anymore anyway.” - that was MrsT.
“Well, why not?! Yah drivin’?”
“No, medication.”
“Well, howzabout this - you give me yer meds an’ I’ll take ‘em and you can drink another beer?!”
So off she went to box up our food, and we waited…and waited…and waited…
She came back a couple of more times to say, “I’m boxin’ those righ’ now!” - never happened.
Finally, the other waitress came out…with one sandwich…on a plate.
“Here’s your reuben…didn’t you order anything else?”
“Yeah, a hot mett sandwich, and Darla’s supposed to be boxing it up to go.”
“Let me go check on her, I’ll just leave this here.”
And away she went.
Darla came back again, she’d suddenly gotten the idea we needed a box for some leftover soft pretzel from our appetizers, and we explained again we were waiting for our sandwiches that she was supposed to be boxing up.
“Y’all ain’t got ‘em yet?! Lemme go check on that!” Away she went.
It’s now past 7:30PM.
Out came the other waitress, carrying a bag of food. She stopped at one table, “Are you waiting on a to-go order? No? Ok.”
Next table, same question, same answer. Great this is our food. She walked towards us…then turned on her heel and went back inside!
Ok, still not angry, I get it, place is closing, but we couldn’t wait any longer, and up I got to go and fetch it…and Darla came barreling out with and nearly ran me down.
“She had yer food an’ skipped right over y’all!”
She sat it down on the table and continued, “Now y’all have put up with a lot tonight, and I appreciate yah, I do, and Imma take care of yah. Imma give yah a good discount on that bill, and are yah sure I can’t getcha a beer or somethin’ on the house for the road?”
And this is why it’s a good thing I don’t own a handgun, because after all that, MrsT said, “Yeah, uh, can I get a cream puff?”
No, no, no!
Part 3 next.
