"A Decade of Memories"
Blogger's Note: Hello? Hello? Mic check. Test one. Test two. Hello?
Sorry. The stage is so dusty that... *cough*. Just a sec. Let me sweep some of this mess, set the props back up, sure sounds empty in here right now. Hollow almost. Show's about to start and people will be filing in soon. I don't know if it'll be a sold-out show, but I expect to recognize a few faces in the crowd. No, don't open the doors yet. Let me arrange things a bit.
Hear that buzz? Neon lights are warming up. I love that sound. Guess the sun is going down; time to get serious, time to focus.
Sorry it took so long. Almost a year, right? I just seemed to have lost touch with writing for a bit. I think maybe I'm feeling the tickle again. I hope you'll be patient with me while I work it out. I'd like to say that I just didn't have anything to write about. But that's not necessarily true. A lot has happened over the past year. A lot has happened over the past month. The problem, I believe, was that it was time to turn a page in my book; and, I just didn't realize it.
Today is the ten year anniversary of the day that I started working at a buffet on a riverboat casino. Since then, the riverboat has left; and, the casino has moved to land. The barge upon which the buffet is situated was left slightly tilted, partially sitting on dry land and unsupported by the boat to which it was once anchored. I'm forty-one now, and my knees aren't taking the declines and inclines as well as I once did.
I loved that job for the longest time. I actually enjoyed clocking in and going to work. But somewhere around the eight-year mark, I just seemed to go on autopilot. I didn't notice it at first, but one day I did. I was just going through the motions. Oh, it's still a great job with great people; but, the time was past due for me to do something else, something new. And so I did.
I have just completed dealer school. Barring something crazy, I'll be dealing blackjack for the first time on Friday. I'll be starting a new job with a whole new cast of characters. I'm so very nervous. And excited.
I thought that leaving the buffet was going to be painless. It would be fulfilling. And, maybe, to an effect, it is. But then, I thought back to the first day I started that job. The day that I walked in and saw the line at the door, the commotion of business, the crazy people that worked there. Let me not put the cart before the horse. I'm getting a little excited now; it was all so very different then. It was all so very new. Nobody had heard the words Duane and Edwards used in tandem. And I, much like I'll be on Friday, was a nervous wreck.
Listening to: "We Are Going To Be Friends" by The White Stripes
My feet were shuffling nervously as I stood next to the hostess station awaiting instructions. I hired in as a busser; and, while cleaning tables didn't exactly require a three-day seminar of duty-explanation, I wasn't sure where to report. The dining room floor was rather large, so I wasn't sure if I would have a section designation or not.
"Hey!" Behind me, a polite-looking, elderly lady motioned for me to come closer. She was obviously wanting to offer some words of encouragement, and the bustling crowd was too vociferous for me to hear her unless at close proximity. So, I moved in closer.
"Put some eggs in your shoe and beat it!" she threw up a thumb, gesturing me away from the station. I checked to see if she was going to crack a smile in jest. It never came. I laughed nervously and meandered away.
"Jump in where you fit in!" A server, her name tag read 'Lisa', shouted above the commotion. I suppose I must have looked pitiful, because her face lightened a touch after she caught sight of me. She handed me a tray and a towel. "Just start clearing the empty tables," she advised as she pointed to one nearby.
Anxious to get to work, I set about cleaning tables, carrying dishes to the bus cart in the station, filling ice, stocking cups, expediting the dirty dishes to the dish room, and trying to stay out of the servers' way. Back then, finding an empty seat in the dining room was quite a task. Business was booming.
In the dish room, a man, apparently named 'Ralph' by his name tag, was talking about how great the Cubs were going to be next year. "162-0! They're gonna be 162-0, just you wait. You'll see!"
"I heard they're guaranteed to be in next year's World Series!" I offered my own brand of 'support'.
"See? I told you!" Ralph paused from his work briefly to assess me.
"Yeah, I heard they already bought tickets." I smiled as I delivered the punchline. Some of the workers around me cheered; others booed.
"Man... get your ass outta here!" he pointed back toward the dining area. He laughed, but I knew that a Cubs'/Cardinals' war had just begun; who knew how long it might last?
Back in the servers' station, some girl named Amber had beer mugs she was holding over her eyes like glasses. She turned to assess the new employee; her eyes wobbling in the warped glass. "Hi, I'm Amber," she said. Without removing her 'glasses', she turned back to whatever it was that she was doing.
"Mmmm... like I said, this is an Autobot. You can see here on Hot Rod's left arm, clearly, the, umm, err, Autobot insignia is holographic so that..."
"Calvin! We're too busy for that shit!" Lisa scolded the one apparently named Calvin. By his uniform, I could see that he, too, must be a busser. "Get out there and get to work!"
I stepped out to clean some tables at that point. These people were crazy; I could see that right away. Two weeks. Two weeks, I kept telling myself. I had been driving a truck over-the-road for the last two years and had decided the time had come to find a job where I could have a life at home. My friend Jeremy had been working at the casino for quite some time; he had told me about getting a job here. He said to take whatever I was offered, get my foot in the door, and, then, after three months, I could transfer to another department if I didn't like what I was doing.
Well, I was pretty sure I wasn't going to like what I was doing. Within two weeks, I was pretty sure that I could get a job somewhere else; I just needed to get some paychecks flowing. In fact, one of my old bosses had told me that he would hire me back. I just had to bide my time. Three months!?! No way was I going to last three months with these crazy people!
"Hey!" Tending the bar behind me, a friendly-looking woman was motioning me closer. "Hi, I'm Kristin," she said. I smiled back. "Hi, I'm Duane." I sighed from exhaustion.
"Tired?" Kristin asked. I sure was! My slack body language must have been answer enough, because she continued. "Don't worry! I have a plan!" She looked around deviously before continuing. "First, I'm gonna take over the buffet; and, then, I'm gonna take over the world! You can join me if you want..." She was obviously trying to cheer me up, and it was working. I think we've been friends ever since.
As Kristin got pulled away by a customer arriving at the end of the bar, a distressed-looking guest approached me. "Serioura?" she asked me.
Serioura? I felt a tinge of panic. It was my first day! Serioura? What was that?
"Cereal?" I guessed. Maybe she wanted some cereal.
"Serioura!" she repeated, beginning to sound distressed.
"Your server?" A girl's voice behind me offered help. It was Amber. I was relieved to have both an experienced accomplice and to have someone helping me understand the indecipherable request.
"Serioura!" She sounded quite agitated by now. Serioura, serioura. What in the hell was serioura?
"Silverware!" Amber offered triumphantly.
"Yes! Serioura!" Amber turned to me with a victorious smile; and, without premeditation, we high-fived. We, too, have been friends ever since.
I worked with a bit more air in my tires after those encounters. At least these two weren't so bad. Maybe these two liked to joke. Hell, if there was anything I could do, it was joke.
I walked back into the station carrying a tray of dirty dishes. A middle-aged woman wearing 'Susan' on her name tag was about to walk out. I addressed her. "The man with the seeing-eye monkey wants to know if he can get some more Splenda," I told her.
She gave me a strange look before grabbing a handful of Splenda and leaving the station. Lisa, who was busy making drinks, looked over her shoulder wearing an incredulous expression that spoke volumes. 'Did you just say seeing-eye monkey?' 'Did Susan just fall for that?' and, maybe even, 'oh, God, that's hilarious!'
"Tell Emma I said, 'Happy Birthday!' when she gets here later. I'm off today but wanted to bring her some cake for when she comes in later." A girl just walked into the station carrying a birthday cake that read 'Happy Birthday Emma' on it. It looked delicious.
"Awww, that looks amazing! Can we eat it now?" Lisa asked as she offered the one named Benita a hug. Benita playfully scolded, "You'd better not! Not until Emma gets here!"
As Lisa turned to leave the station, Benita turned to me. "Hi, I'm Benita. I'll be working with you tomorrow." And that was the first time I met her. Over the years, she would make countless upon countless birthday cakes. I'm pretty sure we've been friends ever since.
Strange velociraptor clicks and screeches were coming from somewhere outside the station. They sounded eerily real, so I reflexively looked up to see who was there. One of the servers from the other side of the dining room was carrying a box of lemons into the small work area. "Hey, Matt," Benita said to him. "I brought some cake that everyone can have after Emma gets here."
As he sat down the box of lemons, somebody hissed. "Hey! Hey!"
We all turned to see Crystal, the other server, peeking her head into the station. She spoke in a loud and excited whisper. "Ya'all ain't gonna believe this! Susan's out there lookin' for a fuckin' monkey!"
Lisa just lost it. She had to sit her drinks down because she was laughing so hard. Everyone chimed in even though they weren't clear on what exactly was happening. One of the hostesses named 'Karen' walked in just as Lisa began the explanation of how I had told Susan that there was a man with a seeing-eye monkey in the buffet. Karen and Matt were laughing even more heartily now.
And that was basically my first day of work. We all joked around, and Susan forgave me with a smile. At the end of the night, we were finishing the last of the closing duties. Almost everyone had left except for Matt and Lisa. They helped me finish up before the three of us walked out together.
"So you're a prankster?" Lisa asked rhetorically. "We could use a few more laughs around here. Where'd you work before here?"
I told her that I had been driving a truck over-the-road for the past two years. Before that, I had worked at Auto Zone.
"Oh, yeah? Did you pull many pranks there?" she jested. I don't think she was expecting a response, but I told her my favorite story from there anyway.
"Yeah... I was a Night Supervisor there. One night, we were dead as hell. Wasn't a single customer in the store, when an old man walked in..."
I proceeded to tell her the story. The only other person in the store was Bull. His name was actually Chris, but he was a big, tall, eighteen-year-old brute with a shaved head that looked like that fella off the '80's sitcom Night Court (remember that one?). So we called him Bull. He was a naive kid, a tad cocky. He usually wore a scowl.
I watched the elderly customer, in his John Deere cap and bib overalls, casually stroll over to the back end cap where we had a modest display of lawn mower parts. I dismissed myself from the counter where we were standing and went back to the office. There, I grabbed the phone and called the parts line which would be the phone next to Bull.
He picked it up after just a couple of rings. "Auto Zone, this is Chris," he answered gruffly.
Using a weak, "elderly" voice that could've won an Oscar, I spoke. "Hi, Chris. A fella wearing bib overalls is coming there to pick up some parts for his lawn mower. If you see him..."
"Yeah, he's here," Bull interrupted. Interrupting people was one of his trademarks.
"...well... could you tell him to pick up some Chinese food for Elmer?"
"Yeah, sure." Bull hung up the phone and strolled confidently over to the unsuspecting guest.
I was peeking around the corner expectantly. I could hardly contain my mirth as he stopped just short of Mr. John Deere. Towering over him, he spoke brusquely. "Sir, you're supposed to pick up some Chinese food for Elmer."
The elderly gentleman paused to look up at the tall boy. Bewilderment filled his eyes. "Do what?" he asked.
"I said, you're supposed to pick up some Chinese food for Elmer." Bull repeated. He bellowed the instructions, almost angrily, emphasizing some of the words in an attempt to relay instructions to a man that he must have perceived was hard-of-hearing.
I had lost it. From the office doorway, I was on my knees, laughing that breathless, hysterical laugh that doesn't go away easily. Tears were running down my cheeks, as I tried, fruitlessly, to remain quiet.
"Boy, what. in. the. hell. are. you. talking. about?" Mr. John Deere found his voice. Bull flinched at each word. He looked around, as the realization seemed to collapse in on him. He heard me laughing at this point; and, in lieu of explaining how angry he was at me for the rest of the night, I'll explain to you something quite important.
If, on my deathbed, you hear the clicks and rattles of the machinery straining to help me breathe, if my labored expression lightens considerably and my wheezing suddenly stops, and if my lips curl into a contorted, ridiculous smile, then you will know that I died thinking of this prank. With a shit-eatin' grin on my face, I will almost certainly cough one last laugh as the electrocardiograph monitor flatlines. I have told this story countless times, and I always laugh harder than anyone else. So, I suspect that I must end that way. Isn't that horribly terrific?
Lisa and Matt laughed with me, too, as I finished the story. I, of course, laughed the most. "Well, see you tomorrow," Lisa dismissed herself. "It's a warm night, so I'm just gonna walk home."
"I can give you a ride if you want," I offered. But she declined. She said she liked walking. So, Matt and I continued conversing under a starry, autumn sky that was unseasonably warm.
"So you gonna stick around?" he asked.
"I'm not sure," I confessed. "I've got my eyes on a couple of other positions that I might shoot for."
"I hear you. You gotta do whatever's best for you. But, there's some pro's to working in the buffet. For one, you rarely work after nine at night; the money's not bad; and, everyone that works here is pretty tight-knit."
I considered his words; and, feeling high from cresting that 'first-day' hill, I thought that I might, indeed, last those first three months. Matt was pretty good with his words of advice; he's always been more mature than his age. I'm pretty sure we've been friends ever since.
But, somehow, three months turned into three years and three years turned into a decade.
I became a server fairly quickly. I've met some really fantastic people, some of whom are pretty much family to me now. Some have come; some have gone. I once read that we are around our co-workers more than we are our own families, when you factor out the amount of time you sleep and all that. I believe that. Because, I think of them like family. We've loved, we've laughed, we've bickered, and we've made up. We have seen each other through the best and through the worst.
I'll, after a decade, be leaving my department this week. I didn't realize, at first, that it was going to be so difficult, so emotional. I once read that if you're friends with someone for ten years, then you will be friends forever. I suppose I believe that, too.
I once met a Polish girl in that buffet. I fell in love and married her. We had two kids together. My co-workers have helped cover for me while I nursed them through sickness or threw them birthday parties. And, when I was at work, we would pull pranks and tell jokes and confess fears.
When I got married to my wife, the whole stinkin' crew came together to... well, wait. Maybe I should save that story for another day. It sounds like a story I should've finished by now...
Maybe I should get to work on that.
For now, I have to go. The curtains are closing as I speak. The spotlight is dimming. Goodbye everyone; I've got to get to the dressing room and get changed for the next act. I'm about to meet a whole new cast of characters that don't have a clue who I am. What are they going to think of my crazy ass? Will they like me?
Stay tuned...
-- If you enjoyed that, check out feature like "Brookport".
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