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The Wheelchair Waiters

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Written by: Rod Boyle

Category: People

Published: 17 December 2011

Hits: 1630

They're both good, in their separate (and similar) ways - each knows by name half our regular customers. They schmooze them, appease them, somehow make them feel comfortable. They're each about 10 years older than me. Old, very old, by waiter standards, but I think that it pleases our customers to get better than Earl's

But they don't get along. We've separated them,  different sides of the restaurant, still there's the minor, petty feuds.

They're not so quick, but it's good to work with different people.

They know what they're doing. Slow, but they don't have to be told.

But as they dicker and feud, about trivial things, like who's been waitering longer (and where, what restaurants, etc) - I can't help but imagine them working together.....

It's a bizarre tableau. 

The one, Z, pushes the other, M, in a wheelchair. This is a first for a waiter, I imagine. They argue the whole way about who's been waitering longer.

When they come to the table they're silent. M holds up a card. It tells them that his name is M and he'll be their waiter this evening.

HE doesn't speak, because - truth be told - our customers don't want to be spoken to.

Instead, the cards he holds up indicate whether they're ready to order drinks, wine, food, etc.

Customers can sign (thumbs up, down, etc) according to the illustrations on the placard that M holds up. 

They're not in the least bit curious as to why M doesn't speak, or why Z doesn't either, they're secretly glad to be able to not speak to their waiter.

Maybe, as M writes things down, Z can argue with him about whether he heard things right.

And when he wheels away, with their drink or food order, they can see/hear him feuding with Z about small and trivial things.
This would put us on the map. The wheelchair waiters.

I want to push one of them, push M, or Z...

They fight, feud, I don't hear of it but know because they can't work together, one always has to work with me, and I have this bizarre vision of them working together in some sort of waiter hell, the wheelchair waiters..... 

Contactors (finished)

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Written by: Rod Boyle

Category: People

Published: 17 December 2011

Hits: 1523

Finally, notes left telling me they've gone down east (final cheque always used to get out of town, the mental image I have not at all surprising) - the job done, well, but not great, requests for revisions ignored (excuses, excuses, transparent...), the request for quotes on future projects postponed until they are less drunk or unavailable, 3 weeks total time but now I can move back in....

Calgary Impound Lot

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Written by: Rod Boyle

Category: Miscellany

Published: 15 December 2011

Hits: 2362

Now G's had some bad luck last week, been pulled over, spot-checked, and the police officer smelled marijuana in the car and issued G a 24 hour suspension.

And G has it in his head that he wants his car back right away, can't wait, and so on the Friday afternoon he arranges for another waiter to stay late and replace me, I have to go with him and the nephew to the Calgary Impound Lot to retrieve his vehicle. The nephew drops us off, and I drive back in his car as he isn't yet able.

He's pissed off, understandably, and paranoid, he's worried about stuff in the car, he had some dope in the door and "money in the car", something me and the Nephew interpret to mean he's got thousands of dollars wrapped in saran and hidden under the dashboard or behind the door panels, but actually refers to the loose loonies and twonies he has for meters in the console.

The Calgary Impound Lot, it's a bleak place, a few acres of derelict cars, perhaps a dozen city employees (of pretty much every ethnicity but white, the city having gone overboard on it's quota's), and it becomes obvious pretty quick that this isn't a fast procedure. There's the waiting in line, the filing of paperwork, wait to be called, walked to the car to retrieve registration, insurance, walked back, more waiting to pay...

There's lots of time for G to chat, and he finds plenty of like-minded souls here, some attractive girls to chat up, another guy in on a 24 hour suspension for the smell of marijuana in his vehicle, they get to talking, G's worried about the pot in his vehicle, getting his registration he had done a quick check, it looked as if it was gone, guy hadn't even considered his dope but will check first thing when he gets his car back...

Eventually we're led on the final tour back to the car. It's shanty-shanty with these civic employees, there's no sense of urgency but plenty of uniforms and badges, for many a laid-back immigrant this must be the job wherein they discover they've died and gone to heaven.....

And leaving the lot, me driving, we're passed by guy, he rolls down his window and yells over at G from a cloud of smoke - "they didn't get mine...."