Regulars - Oh My!

The year between my graduating college and going out into the "real world" (someday I'll explain how I got too much of the real world while safe in the environs of my home town, ironically) I lived in the house where I grew up, then moved a few miles away into an apartment with a roommate, whom I miss so much and wish I could contact, all the while waitressing at a chain restaurant that can be found in any of those "strips" of mainstreet America. Nothing wrong with that.

What got scary was when I got "regulars." Why did they want me? Paul, who would always sit in my section, by himself, and who knew that I knew that he wanted a diet coke with no ice and a salad made in a particular way. The "family," whose last name I won't reveal, who knew I could deal with their children - somehow - satiated with chocolate shakes (a fucking nightmare to make) and some sort of empathy. And the big fat guy who came in with his business lunch cronies and tipped so poorly that his daily order of a bowl of chili with extra cheese turned into my dream of tipping a really hot bowl over his fat bald head.

Now I have "regulars" too. Regular readers. I don't want to dump hot chili over anyone's head; in fact, it's just the opposite. I put forth a small piece of myself during my time at that place (the happy-go-lucky, sure I'd be delighted to get you your 28th refill of soda, piece) and somehow people returned to see me; here, I am also putting forth a piece of myself, but a much larger, more complete and complex piece... and that people are still returning to see the layers underneath the happy-go-lucky me is something that I really do appreciate.

So... thanks!!!