Flash back: Part Two

"Sigh" I said "The thing I miss about working in a smaller restaurant in an even smaller town is the regulars..." "Regulars" chirped my eager coworkers, scurrying over like cockroaches "what ever are those! We have never heard of such a phenomenon!" "Gather round my friends" I declared grandly "and I will tell you the story of some of the rare oddities of smaller establishments, the over zealous, very eccentric and somewhat wealthy REGULAR!!"

(and now we flash back, several years to another time and place.)

After working in the same place in a small community for several years you learn who is going to come in on a daily, weekly or monthly basis. You quickly learn who tips well, who chooses to tip in poorly timed advice and who is just trying out their worst pickup lines on you. (whoo-hoo! snap shizzle!) And occasionally, your patience gets tried by freakazoids who are convinced that they are wealthy and wise, magnanimous and fab. Vom-dot-com....

A couple in their more senior years were regulars on the local restaurant circuit in the village that I used to work in. They would make their presence known every two weeks or so, and would wreak havoc on the order of our system. The reason for this? They would randomly pick a few favorite, and hand out bills of a certain denomination (which, if you were basically willing to bend over to their bizarreness would be worth it.)This would inevitable lead to massive gridlock at their table as employees tried to get a chunk o' change, and would essentially slow down the inner workings of the whole place. They had a few blessed favs that they would hunt down and pay off regardless of their level of suck-up-edness but for the rest of us (them) it was a contest of epic proportions. Who could entertain them the best?!? Regale them with fine fairy tales?!? Do back flips and cartwheels while lit on fire!! You get the picture, the whole staff would rush to their table to parade around their finest party trick. Being that I am a somewhat sarcastic and slightly acidic SOB I refused to take any part in this ass kissing madness and just did my mofo of a job. However, these peeps were tricky buggers and decided on one fine evening to put my mad skills to the test.

These people were a strange study of contrasts. They were old. Yes, I said it- perhaps it's not PC but they were!! The female member of this jaunty pair would regularly wear jeans built for a 16 year old nymph with her stomach support granny panties clearly showing above the waistline, by a subtle 6 to 8 inches. Sexxxxxxy. The gentleman of the relationship would always wear a dapper little suit, and would skeeve over the young male members of the staff. (I've got something in my front pocket for yoouuuuu, why don't you reach in my front pocket and see what it IS!!) So yes, married but gay-ish, old but dressed young: A very fine pair all around wouldn't you say?

On my day of reckoning with them I went thru our usual banter; Mr. Creeper: "Oh little Danny isn't in tonight! What a shaaaaame, I had a little something for him!" Me: "No he has the night off and is spending it at the female strip club." (in my in the head voice.) On this particular evening Ms Control Undies had a very important question for me. "Where ever is that glorious painting" she inquired in her faux brit accent breathy little girl voice "Do you know the one?" she stage whispered , looking at me with her bright blue lined, mascara running weepy eyes. Looking around the room I saw all the paintings in their homes, looking the same as they had for lo those many years. "I don't know what painting you mean" I said "Perhaps you could describe it for me?" "Hmmmmm" she trilled vacantly "It was a lovely little picture, full of pretty ponies and precious monkeys!!" Thinking that this painting was depicting my worst nightmare I said that I simply didn't know where it was. Irked, that his dead sexy 17 year old bus boy wasn't there to play hide the banana with him Mr. Creeper gave me the side-eye. "No??" he said thru his nose "You reaaally don't know that poppish little painting....?? It has been hiding in this wee little room for soooooo many years..." **sigh** I said "Let me ask the manager!" Who, obviously did not know what on earth they were talking about but scampered like a meth addict over to their table to try to get her cut of the daily payout. At this point a line had formed at the table and while I admired my fellow coworkers bringing their A games to table 28 I reflected that perhaps the couple might forget about the lost art. No such luck, 240 years later when I finally made my way back to their table they had both whipped themselves into a frenetic state about the crisis of the painting. Near tears, Ms Control Briefs had one more desperate plea "Are you sure you don't know where it is" she implored "It would so warm my heart to see it again (sniffle) it was so merry, with the monkies PRAHN-CING and DAHN-CING all about!!" "Prancing and dancing monkys?" I said in my super helpful-est voice "merry circus ponies? Nope, have never seen it and don't know where it is." "Hmmmmmm" faux-britted Mr. Creeper "It would mean a nice bitty-wittie bonus for you if you could find it!!" I looked at him. He looked at me. Keep in mind, that at this moment I had 6 other tables who all wanted my attention just as much as they did. Keep in mind, that he thought that he could BUY me and my fracking SOUL!! Calmly, I replied as only one who has never seen credit-card debt can: "No, I have never, ever seen a painting such as that in here." DUM, DUM, DUMMMMM!!! And off I went. Later that evening when they took their leave Mr. Creeper sneakily passed me a rolled up bill. Shocked that despite my Braveheart style declaration of freedom I had still made it into the million dollar club I unrolled the bill. To find a sweet $5 spot.... Awesome. I was so cheesed off my the whole incident that I promptly gave it to the bus kid to go and buy herself some candy with. The charming couple would continue to grace us with their presence on a regular basis until the time of my departure some years later. Although they always tipped well, I never did make the millionaires club- nor did I want to.

Finishing my tale I surveyed my awestruck coworkers who were gathered around me like fat kids around cake. "Tell us more, tell us more" they all cried expectantly. "No my friends" I declared "I must save more tales from normal times for another day, but remember..... No amount of money is worth the price of your SOUL!!!!"

And if you really believe that I ever told my current coworkers any kind of story than y'all are a buncha suckahs....