Service With a Smile

02/18/21

Is there anything good about February? It is a short, cruel little month, never sure if it wants to be cold and drizzly, or tease with a hint of spring in the air.

I only have fifteen minutes to finish today’s journal entry. My counselor encourages me to list at least three items I am grateful for every day.

Let’s see ...

I am grateful that I finally found the courage to boot out my erstwhile boyfriend, Derek, who emphasized his displeasure with my lack of dinner preparation by pulling me by my pony tail through the apartment, spewing his colorful depictions of my stupidity all the while.

I am grateful that my cousin, Felice, has not been over in at least three days to sparkle about her latest conquest. Her penchant for tobacco chewing dirt bike riders has not worked out very well for her in the past, but who am I to judge?

And, I am grateful for having a job, even though the smell of grease permeates my clothing, no matter how hot the laundry water.

Speaking of that, it is soon time for my shift at Han’s Japanese Hibachi Grill and Buffet, so I must close my little, black Moleskin and be on my way.

02/19/21

Last night’s shift was like so many of the others. Diners were generally decent, but very few actually raise their eyes high enough to make eye contact with me. I was generally part of the decor, not enough to distract guests from the hibachi flames, or the onion volcano. At first I was slightly embarrassed to wear the Japanese silk clothing, but since the owners are actually Chinese, it didn’t take me long to get over it. The worst part is that in a whole evening of fairly nice diners, it seems there is always that one person who is having a terrible day and wants to make sure yours is worse.Last night it was a group of healthcare workers who of course insisted on separate checks, and then had to double check all of my entries, looking at me with suspicion the whole time. I felt tears form in my eyes, as I looked around at all the tables still waiting for my attention. I would not let them see me cry, though - just as I held it in when Derek used me as a human dust rag.

02/20/21

Today I worked a lunch shift, and my favorite customer came in. Paul is an unassuming septuagenarian who always dines by himself. He is one of the few who always looks right into my eyes with his rheumy blue ones. Somehow I feel that he can see my pain. But we never speak of that. He will tell me of his estranged family, though, and how his ex-wife corrupted any connection that may have existed between him and his children. He had lost all communication with them years ago. I would always try to cheer him up with a little self deprecating humor, and I think he usually leaves happier than when he came in.

Okay, okay : Three things I am grateful for :

A quiet, albeit dusty apartment that just has me in it.

A hot bath with a lavender scented bath bomb.

Dub chill on the stereo. Derek hated it.

03/15/21

I know, I know - I’m getting behind in my journal entries. Life has just been so deadly boring these days, I can’t be bothered to make note of it.

Let’s see, Felice has dragged me out a couple of times to her biker bars. Half drunk dudes asking me to dance when I know what they really want was not the most scintillating.

Really the high point of the last couple of weeks was chatting with Paul. He has such a sweet smile when he can dredge one up from the sad trajectory of his life. I am a little concerned though - lately his step has become a bit slower, his voice more strained.

I just can’t think of three items of gratitude today. And therapy is not lifting my dark moods lately, anyway.

Please don’t let me allow Derek back in, just so I can feel something.

03/20/21

I almost tossed this little black journal out in my frenzy of de-cluttering. This may be my last entry for awhile, because I am moving! And I am not just changing domiciles, I am changing me.

Paul came in the other night, but he only ordered green tea. He asked if I could sit down with him a moment, and since it was almost closing time, I thought I could get away with it without incurring the wrath of Han.

Paul gazed at me for what was starting to be an uncomfortable amount of time, then said haltingly,

“My dear, you have been the only bright spot in my dreary existence. I see the way you are treated here by some, and I don’t want that to happen anymore. You need to find what you love to do, and then get the training to go and do it.”

He tapped the back of my hand gently, and added, “I am entering Hospice tomorrow. No, no, dear, no crying. I am more than ready to lay down this weary head, and hope for better adventures to come. But please don’t wait. My only regret is wasting all these years too afraid to pursue love again.”

I did cry, but I waited until Paul was gone.

Three things I am grateful for :

My theatre arts class starts next week.

The new apartment, which even has a window box for an herb garden.

The $20,000 tip that Paul left me. He signed the bill with the small flourish of a heart at the end of his name.