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“No cheese?” she asked, confirming a modification she’d made after I had already dropped the patty onto the grill.
“Correct,” I called out, sweeping the bits of meat on the grill to the side so it would fall in the grease trap.
“Thanks, hon,” she called back, taking the plate from the window and heading to the table.
The lunch rush was about done, which meant there was about to be what accounted for downtime coming. It would only last an hour or two, but it would give us time to change out servers, wipe down the tables, and get everything set for the dinner rush later.
Usually, I would take that time to head to the back door, bring out a soda, and relax for a little bit.
Not today. Not with Helen out for maternity leave. I had a responsibility to the diner and to her to keep things running smoothly.
So, instead of going out back and clocking out officially, I headed into the office and sat down with a couple of buffalo wings and fries. I didn’t plan on being there long, just long enough to get some food in my stomach. As I ate, I put a show on my phone and propped it against the work computer but kept the volume low. It let me keep an ear out for the floor.
“I swear. I don’t know how she does it,” a voice floated back to the office a bit later. It sounded like Amy, the newly turned seventeen-year-old who Helen had hired. I didn’t know her too well, but she seemed like a good kid and was a hard worker, and she seemed to love the fact that the other waitresses included her in the gossip.
The more I eavesdropped, the more I realized they were talking about the new girl that had started working with the guys at the logging company that Helen’s partner, Everett, worked for.
“I heard she’s a hard worker,” Amy said, responding to something one of the other women said. “Helen seemed to like her a lot.”
I came out of the office, stuffing the last of the fries down my throat, and the talk quickly stopped. Suddenly, everyone was extremely interested in how much shine they could get on the empty tables they were cleaning.
“Anybody need any help with anything?” I asked.
There were glances exchanged between them, and I could almost feel the calculations being made. Was I someone they could trust with hearing them chat, or should they shun the man? It was humorous to me how they reacted, but I didn’t really care one way or the other. I really did want to help them get ready for dinner, if nothing else other than it would mean service would begin with fewer problems.
“Section four could use a hand,” Janet said. “Samantha had to leave early. She was feeling woozy.”
“Oh no, is she alright?” I asked.
“Just a touch of exhaustion, I believe,” Janet said. “That teenager of hers gives her a lot of trouble.”
“Gage,” Amy sighed, and I could nearly hear her heart thumping. Janet rolled her eyes.
“That’s the one. No good, that boy. No good at all,” she said, giving Amy a pointed look.
“Well, I’ve got time,” I said. “Roger ever call?”
Janet shook her head. I shrugged and grabbed a cleaning bucket. I passed the only customer left in the place, an old man named Stanley, who sat at the bar drinking coffee. He was such a fixture of silence and grazing that the women paid him no mind when they gossiped either. It was like he was Dina’s own personal indoor gargoyle.
As I sat my bucket down on the first table in the section, I pulled out my phone to check and make sure I didn’t miss any messages. Roger was the third cook in the diner and the longest tenured. An old but surprisingly lively man, he had no interest in taking over leadership at his age. He was content to come in on the weekends and flip burgers. He was due to come in for the evening shift but had called earlier to say he was feeling under the weather.
I began to clean the table, and as time passed, I heard the waitresses sliding back into their normal routines. Everyone at Dina’s had multiple jobs. It was the nature of a small diner. Officially, Janet was a waitress and a shift manager. Amy was a waitress and a busser. Eileen was a waitress and a runner. Everyone had a second duty to keep things moving smoothly. Mine was, officially, head of the back of house. But I took on even more duties to clean tables just to help out when things got busy, or they got behind.
Plus, it meant I kept my ear to the ground.
I also enjoyed the mindlessness of it. I often found myself overthinking food, even simple stuff. Wondering if I could individually place specks of pepper on a burger was a classic example that Helen liked to point out. But cleaning was mindless. I could do that and think about other things. The dishwasher was running loudly in the back, and Tony was rinsing down the prep station before diving into prepping for dinner. I had the time.
