The nicest woman lives across the street from the bar I work at. She has one of those old names that her kids probably thanked God they didn’t get but their kids will probably bring it back. Old names get trendy like that. You don’t want to get stuck with it, but you’ll probably end up naming your kid with it.
She goes by the nickname Arbie. She slowly hobbles across the street with her walker and sits alone having breakfast. She’ll chat if you’ll take the time to talk to her, otherwise she’s perfectly happy reading the paper while she waits for her french toast.
There is also a gentleman that comes in, mainly by himself. His peers will already be in for their coffee date and he never joins them. He told me once that he’s friendly with them but just doesn’t like their conversation material so he, much like Arbie, sits alone.
I admire the both of them. They remind me of that Sex in the City episode where Carrie doesn’t want to go out by herself. These two are pros and yes, it’s in a MUCH smaller town than New York but doesn’t that make them more brave? Both of them have lived in this small town their entire lives, they know every single person that walks in the door, but to choose to be by themselves rather than partake in a conversation that doesn’t interest them…I think that’s brave and being true to themselves. I admire that.
It’s too bad all of the old people can’t be like those two.
***
We have a popcorn machine at work. Some old dude with a handlebar mustache purchased it as a gift for the bar. Popcorn is available Monday through Friday for happy hour.
I fucking hate this machine.
When I started the it was out of commission. The bar was doing some re-modeling and couldn’t find a place for the popcorn machine, it either blew fuses or fried the jukebox. Every Wednesday I would get asked where the popcorn machine was and how long will it be gone, and if I bring my own popcorn will you pop it for me. The whining went on for weeks that turned into months… Then the machine found a spot, a place where it could be plugged in and pop freely. I thought I was in the clear for the popcorn complaints, but I was wrong.
Handlebar mustache bitches about how the popcorn is popped now. There are too many old maids, it wasn’t warm; the list of complaints is literally ridiculous and I’m ready to go Office Space on this piece of equipment. I’ve refused to make popcorn because I don’t eat it and I don’t want to hear about it and there is no damn way I’m reading the instruction manual (as was suggested to me) to get the perfect batch of popcorn. Forget it, instead I have named one of the happy hour patrons as Captain Popcorn and he, handlebar mustache and all, can do all of the popping. I actually think he enjoys the nickname and the responsibility.
***
Arbie broke my heart a few weeks ago. Which brings me to the point of this post (finally, sorry).
Arbie, decided to sit at table 7 with some of her peers. Table 7 is notorious for being the complainer table. There isn’t one server that likes to take that table and if you’re day didn’t start out bad, it probably will be after they get done and the worst part is it’s the first table of the day. As you take their breakfast order they will ask for crispy hash browns and then tell you that the hash browns suck here and really the only place to get good hash browns is over at that other place. They will complain that the eggs are too done or not done enough, the coffee is cold, ect. and this happens EVERY. SINGLE. SATURDAY.
I often wonder why they “bless” us with their presence when they are so offended by the food.
I <3 Arbie. I love her soft spoken demeanor. Her aged smooth skin. Her smile. When she sat at Table 7, I thought that everyone’s day would be a little brighter. She would sprinkle her magic niceness on everyone around her and the day would be a good day! Instead of vibrating at her highest point, she lowered herself to their levels and complained with them. As I listened to her complain about her food the last time she was in,
I
felt
my
heart
shatter.
We need to remember that we are the sum of the 5 people we hang out with the most. Be careful who choose because whether you like it or know it, their behavior is rubbing off on you.
Vibrate higher.
Don’t sit at a Table 7 when you’re much better off on your own.
Peace and Love,
Jes xoxo