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An Evening at Neptune's Diner

A Server's Nightmare and Dream Come True.

By Juan FaragherPublished 3 years ago 12 min read
1
An Evening at Neptune's Diner
Photo by Colin Avery on Unsplash

It was always the smell that lingered, James had realized. It reminded him of everything he was and everything he wasn't. It reminded him of everything he wanted to be.

"You're going to be late, again..." a voice whispered in his head.

"No, I'm not calm down," James thought to himself as he continued to rifle through his clothes. One clean shirt was all he needed.

"Babe, you're gonna be late!" a voice yelled out from the living room.

"I'm leaving now! Just need a shirt!" James yelled back. The search turned manic. Sprinting between piles of clothes on the floor and in the closet. Smelling each of his shirts, to see which was cleanest. Finally landing on one with the fewest stains.

It was always the smell though. Grease, meat, and syrup. James had grown accustomed to the smell, but in times like this outside of the diner, it was usually the best indicator between "clean" and "dirty".

Putting on the shirt as he walked to the bathroom, James doused himself in cologne; finding any way to hide his dirty little secret.

"Babe!"

"I'm leaving!"

James walked out to find his partner, Lance, now in the kitchen. "We need to do laundry."

"We need to do the dishes," Lance replied, pointing to the pile of dishes in the sink. "And you have more mail from the bank." lifting two envelopes. James grabbed the envelopes, putting them in a small neat pile of mail addressed to him. James knew they were about his student loan payments. He was a month behind, Lance didn't need to know.

"Well, I have to work," James retorted. "Kiss, for good luck?"

"Always," Lance scurried over for a kiss. "Have a great day. Make a million dollars."

"Will do!" James loved their little ritual before he went off to work. Always met with a kiss.

Hastily heading down the stairs to the parking lot and his car, James was off, and with 15 minutes until his shift started. It was a 20-minute drive on a good day, and James felt like today was a good day.

"You're always at the right place, at the right time." He calming his nervous heartbeat. "Breath."

James arrived at the Neptune Diner 10 minutes late. Not a good day.

He walked in to see his manager at the front by the host stand. "Good morning, sir." James went to shake his manager's hand as always.

"You're late motherfucker. No free food for you fatass." The manager laughed.

"I'm right on time, Miguel!" James smiled and laughed back.

"You're my shift lead tonight, sir, so get to work! Lazy fucker..." Miguel laughed again.

Miguel was actually quite kind, despite the hard language and general "fuck you" attitude. They were friends. Miguel also knew that James was one of the hardest workers he had. Although he'd never admit it.

James knew the ins-and-outs of the place. For 5 years, James had seen the same regulars come and go. Mary-Ann and her two kids always ordered the pancakes even when breakfast hours were over. Tim and his wife Leanne. Well, now it's just Tim. Leanne passed just last month. James had established himself in the diner. He knew the menu, he knew all the questions. And most importantly, he had a charm with guests. Never seeing them as a bother when they got upset, and understanding that sometimes it's just the biz.

At the ripe 'ole age of 25, James had graduated college last summer. Standard liberal arts degree. Nothing fancy, just a local state school. The parents were happy. He was behind the rest of his high school "friends". Instagram was not a fun time.

Being behind didn't stop him. If anything it pushed him to be the hard worker he is today. And besides, "You're always at the right place, at the right time," he continued to tell himself.

James had plans. He realized a corporate job was going to push him back into his manic days.

The days where things felt worthless. That people were worthless. That he was worthless.

So, here is where James had found himself. Serving patty melts and fries for the last 5 years. As James settled into the shift, the same characters came and went as if all rehearsed on stage. James knew his lines. The most fun was when strangers would come and ask questions he hadn't heard before. Kept him on his toes.

"So, where does your meat come from?" a lady replied. She was in a booth by herself. Brown, wavy hair. Faded blue at the tips.

"Ahh, that's a really good question. I've never been asked that before. Let me go find out for you!" James said with a smile.

"It's okay, I don't want to be a bother. What was your name?" she replied.

James was never a fan of giving out his name, "James, ma'am."

"Nice to meet you, James. I'm Renee. So what's good here?"

James began to list his usual script of recommendations. He began to casually look around, noticing his section was beginning to get full.

"Is there any way I can get the pancakes?" Renee asked.

Coming up with the standard line, "Breakfast hours are from 9-2 unfortunately." It was 4:30 pm.

"At least Mary-Ann comes in at 2," James thought to himself. Laughing to himself slightly.

Renee looked at James, studying him. James was nothing but hyper-observant of his surroundings. Noticing the look. "Well, they did it for me last time. Could you just ask?"

Never one to create tension, "I will definitely ask you for, anything else?" Renee shook her head no and turned her gaze toward her phone. Something seemed off about Renee. His intuition was telling him something. He just wasn't sure what.

James brushed off the thought and began collecting orders from the rest of his tables. His mind systematically running through the entire menu at each. Running through the list of priorities: drinks, ringing in orders, running food, pre-bussing, anticipating guest needs. James was also in charge of the other servers. Making sure they didn't need any help. Restocking supplies when they were gone. Refilling drinks all around the diner. He was free to be as productive as he liked.

"Hey, Miguel, are pancakes cool this late? I told the lady at table 12, I'd ask."

"Ring it in, I'll let the kitchen know!" Miguel shouted back from the expo line, reverting to Spanish immediately to talk to the cooks in the kitchen.

"Yes, sir!" James went running around the diner again. It was a standard Sunday evening. Busy, but nothing he couldn't handle. Suddenly, a voice shouted out from behind him.

"Excuse me, James!" the voice screeched, stoping James in his tracks. This is why he didn't like to give out his name.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Are the pancakes on their way? You didn't say anything."

"Yes, they are. Should just be a few minutes." And just like magic, a server comes and drops off the pancakes at the table. "Perfect, timing!" James smiled happily.

"Well, I was actually hoping to get a burger instead. But since the pancakes are here, I'll keep them as well."

"No worries, I'll put that burger in for you."

"Thanks, James, you're the best." Before she could finish her sentence, Renee returned to her online world. Pulling out her vape as well for a few puffs.

"Ma'am, there's no vaping inside."

"Oh," catching Renee off-guard," my bad, I had no idea!"

It was the way Renee spoke that seemed to rub James the wrong way. Her expression was cheerful, but there was something that just felt off. James trusted himself when it came to his gut. Years of experience taught him as much.

Nevertheless, the shift continued. James noticed that Tim, the regular, had come in.

Tim wasn't in James' section this evening, but James stopped by for a brief hello between his evening duties. Tim was slightly more cheerful than last week. He had been always carrying with him a small black notebook these past few weeks since his wife had passed; which he neatly placed on the table next to his silverware.

"Hey, Tim! Welcome back! How are you tonight?" James smiled.

"Evening James," Tim smiled back," I'm doing well. If you don't mind I'd like to put my usual order in as well, if that's alright?"

"'Course Tim, comin' right up!" James went off to inform the server since it wasn't his table. Equal spread of the wealth was most important. While searching the diner for his missing coworker, Miguel informed James that the server was in the bathroom and to go ahead and take care of Tim. James protested slightly, never one to shark tables, but ultimately succumbed to the will of his manager.

James diligently continued his work. A standard Sunday. It wasn't until James went to check in again on Renee that the evening seemed to shift.

"James, these pancakes are cold, and this burger is just not what I thought it was going to be."

Scanning the food on the table, James noticed both orders were half-eaten. Something was off.

"Oh my goodness, ma'am, I'm so sorry about that. I'd be more than happy to get you a new burger. Unfortunately, the pancakes- "

"Could I just get a warm set of pancakes? And could you take the burger off the tab?" Renee lifted her plate towards James. James grabbed the plate. "Thanks, James." Without even a second glance, Renee returned to her phone.

Never wanting to create tension, James casually walked away with a plate of half-eaten pancakes to inform Miguel of the issue with the food. Another order was to be made. James disagreed, it was way past breakfast hours, but decided to stay quiet instead; it was Miguel's decision after all.

James' thoughts were jumbled out this point. He could feel his heartbeat beginning to race. The system he had in place was out of order, and he couldn't remember where he was. A pit was forming in his stomach, and he didn't know why. James began to snap his fingers rapidly as if summoning his thoughts back to order.

"Breath." The voice in his head said. "Move. Breath. Go check on Tim." James moved his feet, finding his flow once again.

"Hey Tim, how's everything?"

"Delicious as always," Tim replied." Hey, I'd been meaning to show you something." Tim opened his notebook. James was astonished. It was him. Drawn. Black and White. Working in the diner. "Leanne's work. She was always a fan of your smile."

James had never seen himself captured this way. Inspecting the artwork further. There he was. A smile shining from cheek to cheek. She had gotten his wavy hair that was gently pulled behind his ears with a couple of stray strands. His muscular arms simply pouring a cup of coffee. Something he had done hundreds of times. There was so much life depicted. It was inspiring.

"I look really happy." James thought.

"I'll leave it for you. I think she'd want you to have it."

"It's beautiful, I really don't know what to say. "

"Just say thanks, and keep working hard, kid." Tim smiled.

"Thanks." James smiled. He was still shocked. He didn't think people were watching him this closely. Well, not like this anyway.

Moving through the restaurant once again, James noticed something from the corner of his eye. Smoke rising from a booth. Renee.

"Ma'am, there really is no vaping indoors-"

"Oh, I'm sorry I didn't know," she replied. James noticed that the burger had been fully eaten as well as the fresh set of pancakes.

"I told you, previously. Also, if you ate the burger I can't take it off the tab."

"Well, you did not tell me any of that before."

"Ma'am, I told you there was no vaping, and the burger -" He was interrupted again.

Out of nowhere, the tone of her voice elevated, "You did not tell me anything!"

Hoping to deescalate the situation, "Ma'am, there is a sign that says no vaping or smoking by the door." Pointing to the door.

"I'm not fucking blind! You don't need to show me!" The other patrons were beginning to quiet and turn heads.

"Ma'am, I'm simply informing you that - " Interrupted again. James could feel his heart racing. He could feel his adrenaline beginning to rise, but he knew he had to keep it together. She was pissed at something. Not him.

"You never fucking told me anything, let me speak to your manager because this is ridiculous!"

James was so confused about how this had gotten away from him, but something compelled him to say, "Ma'am, you're lying right now."

"Are you calling me a fucking liar! This is the absolute worst fucking service I've ever received in my life! Let me talk to your manager!" Renee banged her fist against the table. Silence swept across the restaurant.

James had bad customers before, but never had he been yelled at in the way Renee was yelling at him. Not even by his own parents. James would not be spoken to like this. He remembered Leanne's sketch. His smile. His charm. His kindness. He didn't deserve this. That he knew.

James silently picked up the plates from the table. "Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to leave." His voice commanding, yet calm. "Breath," he thought.

"This is absolutely ridiculous!" her voice reverberated across the diner.

"Ma'am, you're causing a scene, and disrupting our guests. Once again, I'm asking you to leave."

"Let me speak - "

A voice chimed in from behind James, "You can leave." It was Miguel. The diner was silent. All eyes focused on Renee. A standoff, as she began to look around; understanding her situation.

Realizing the weight against her, Renee silently retreated out. Head high, slamming the door behind her. Applause erupted at the sound of the door. Miguel's hand reached onto James' shoulder.

"Good work." The diner returned to its regularly scheduled evening. Laughter and conversation filled the air. James' heart had calmed; returning to work as usual.

The shift had continued uneventfully for the rest of the evening. James hadn't noticed Tim had left already. Not sure if it was before or after the chaos. He guessed someone else had dropped off the check for him.

As he went to collect, he noticed the drawing left at the table once again. He smiled at himself. Proud of what he saw. Of what someone else saw in him. Grabbing the check, his eyes narrowed.

Written on the tip line. "20,000." That wasn't right. There was no way. Total: "20,009.78." Tim's signature was there. This must be a mistake. James inspected the check further. Written on the back, "She'd of been proud of you tonight! Don't spend it all in one place!"

Tears formed in his eyes. James smiled and began to chuckle to himself. A voice entered his rampant mind.

"You're always at the right place, at the right time."

fact or fiction
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About the Creator

Juan Faragher

Jew-in. 24.

finding purpose in everything i do.

follow me on instagram @juju_faragher for constant good vibes and drops of wisdom

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