Saturday, I'm a few minutes early, the last weekend of Stampede. 16 days to go before vacation, if I'm smart, organized, lucky, I won't be coming back.
The owner, he's outside, on the "patio", an umbrella and folding table sat out upon the parking lot, he's alone, an empty glass with the dregs of a glass of red wine in it. Is he drunk? How long has he been out here? How many glasses of wine is this? I say my hello, he grunts a response, time to get busy setting up the restaurant.
The hostess has been called in, less because of business (we're not busy at all, half as busy as the night before, no hostess or expediter was called in then), the hostess, an older woman, slightly younger than the owner, she's been called in solely to amuse the boss...
They play cards in the private room, G asks what they're playing for, the owner tells him "blowjob", it's not funny, was never funny, I've heard this a thousand times before. And the owner closes the door of the private room, no need for interruption, G and the new Italian waiter, they complain that she was called in for nothing, we don't need her, and I point out that they're both busy playing cards, he's in a mood, she's running interference, she's working for her money just like us, different than us, she's jollying the owner, the boss, and tonight, 3 weeks and one day to go, I'll pay her her cut.
They agree.
The night stays slow, a few last minute reservations, cancellations, it's Stampede, nowhere outside of the zone or theme is busy. After cards (and no one dares interrupt the game, the door closed, we avoid the passage by the private room entirely, no one wants to be indiscreet...) the owner walks through the restaurant. He wonders where all the customers are, why J*** hasn't dropped by in some weeks, maybe, somehow, we offended him? And it's not "we", the royal "we" is for blame and blame alone, it's him, his tirades and rantings about freeloading customers (he refuses to charge them) that sit on the patio with him, keep him company, drink with him while he gets drunk, while he complains about his child support payments, his children, his freeloading daughter that's moved back in with him, complains about paying his employees, the recession, complains about everything...and so it's not "we", it's him, but no one will say anything, still, watching him on the patio, alone, drunk, staring emptily into space, one has the feeling that maybe he somehow understands just how much he's the architect of his own misfortunes...
Rare to see him alone. Usually there will be someone there to ply with cappuccinos, wine, food, sparkling waters, some younger or older thing for him to grope while he protests his love for his new girlfriend...
...At the front door, sitting in a chair by the desk, pulling the hostess upon his lap, loud "jokes" while he makes excuses and pretenses for grabbing her tits, her ass...when she escapes she tells me "I hope you know how much I'm putting up with for you guys....". I acknowledge, I do, this perpetual innuendo, Pantalone forever in pursuit of his Francesca, and I suggest in jest that maybe if she just ... to get it over with ... Italians aren't known for their stamina ... and she tells me:
"I would if he'd just offer me some money..."
,,,and here, the sum of all womanly virtue. Undoing a thousand rants I've endured about the inequality of women and the abuses of men, agreed, for sure, but somehow this undermines all of the damage...
***
It's dismal, this, the new Italian waiter, on a Temporary Foreign Worker permit, thought that a change of scenery would do good for his mixed anxiety disorder, he was wrong, he knows this now. G, G, always G, I've figured him out now, he's completely lacking a subconscious, what would cause this? I don't know, a lobotomy, of sorts, cultural, ...
And J**** in the kitchen, Filipino, TFW, but he's now got his permanent residency, and I'm more than half betting, we all are, that he was dying to get out of here, that this citizenship the owner's paid so dearly for is more of a punishment than a reward. There are new employees, too, "Roxy", as I call him, 19 years old, slow, terribly slow, always distracted, daydreaming, worldly beyond his years, he assures me, he's a moderator on 4Chan and Reddit and the things he's seen...I don't doubt it, but the internet is no substitute for the real world, still, he gets my sense of humor, and fills in the requisite token Canadian member of staff....
***
Everyone here is broken, somehow. G, The new waiter, the disadvantaged immigrants, the customers.
***
A monthly regular, peculiar, older, perhaps 60, claims to be passing through on business. With a guest. Orders the most expensive wine on the menu, his "date", a younger man, perhaps 45 or so, they talk business, his date can't, won't drink the wine, AA I'm guessing, the customer offers the owner a glass. He's not a good judge of character, the owner has no appreciation, drinks the cheapest wine mixed with 7-UP, this gift is lost upon him. And so he offers in turn a glass to the new Italian Waiter, myself, explains that he's driving, talks about his business that is taking him from his family home in Scotland yesterday to Turkey tomorrow, and he has other Villas in Italy, Spain, ....
I'm suspicious, skeptical of him some how, he's too garrulous, rich people don't talk like this, tell you how rich they are, but maybe he's a remittance man, paid to stay out of the family business, I've known a few...
***
And T, beautiful, 30 something, fit, happily married in every realtor's dream, silk hotpants and low slung blouse, in for lunch, avoiding the owner's embraces and embarrassingly vulgar enthusiasms and gropings, here for lunch, her name on every bus bench in Mt. Royal, what is she looking for? Status? More money? Happily married and she begins discussing her online dating experiences with her date, OKCupid, POF,...
***
Countless others, few innocents wander through here, everyone here, one way or another, is broken...all are looking for something, more money, status, prestige...and I've 3 weeks left, I'm looking as well, for a way to get the hell out of here....
***
The owner, he's the most broken of all. Still, he's getting better, his rages abate, tantrums are slower, his ranting more prolonged, more ...well...but his friends have tired of hearing of them, the customers don't return after the inappropriate gropings, solicitations, innuendo....