Dreama’s Diary–August 1
It was late in the afternoon and he hadn’t come in yet. I waited and waited. It shouldn’t be like this.
Stephanie sensed something was wrong. I forced a sunny disposition, but it was fake. Even the customers tried my patience. I aimed to be sincere, though on days like this I couldn’t conceal my dislike for rude and picky customers. My tips suffered. Being a waitress is the wrong profession. I felt like painting a smile on my face.
“You have a customer,” Nadine said, busy with a food delivery. Boxes of bread and vegetables towered nearby.
Over in the corner, bothered by an overgrown hanging plant, a gruff businessman fidgeted. His grouchy bulldog face pronounced his displeasure over the menu. I sighed. This wasn’t going to be easy.
“Hi, there,” I said, “I’m Dreama and I’ll be your waitress.”
“Dre…what? What kind of name is that?"
“Well, I answer to ‘hey, you,’ too, so that will work as well,” I joked, only to further annoy him. “Can I get you a drink?"
“Anything, but coffee. It is really terrible here.”
“So I’ve heard,” I mumbled, “How about a soda?”
He eyed my chest and my hips. I hated being checked out like that. I tried to conceal my anger.
“A Coke, sir?”
“Sure, whatever, sweetie.”
Sweetie? I was in a foul mood and he called me “sweetie.” I’ll never understand.
“I’ll be right back with your drink and I’ll take your order when you are ready,” I said.
His eyes burned my backside. I cringed. I need a new job!
“What’s wrong?” Milo asked as he walked by carrying a box of mushrooms.
“I need a break.”
“Rough day?”
“A little.”
“Well, look! There’s your friend.”
Stefan had walked in. He always appeared friendly. He absorbed me in his eyes and made me feel valued. I wanted to crawl into his arms and escape this cruel world.
He greeted me, but he sat in a new waitress’s section. Her name was Deidre. I find her to be loud and obnoxious. She took his order and went about her business. I eyed her with contempt. Her shorts were too short.
I wanted to talk to him, but I wasn’t sure if it would be appropriate. He was my friend after all, wasn't he?
I brought the grouchy bulldog his soda and quickly took his order for Thai Chicken. I was nicer to him when I returned, though it had nothing to do with him. I glanced at Stefan. He smiled and then returned to reading the paper. The businessman tried to engage me in a conversation. He called me a “doll.” I don’t know what he said after that. I just laughed when he did. He could have called me an idiot for all I knew. I then left. Stefan wasn’t looking.
I felt restless and I didn’t understand why. He was there; I should have been happy. He just seemed so far away.
On and on, I don’t know what I want! I don’t know if I want him….I do.
