Theatrical Server looked mystified as she counted cash from a bill book. “I just don’t understand,” she mused.
“What?” asked the Manager Server, a young blonde who doubled as Assistant Manager and Server depending on the shift assignment. That day, she was serving. She and Theatrical Server are terrific friends.
The lunch rush was dwindling. I was hiding in the corner of the server aisle, nibbling on some illicit cornbread and listening. To eat unpurchased food at The Pie Shoppe was strictly forbidden by The Owner who considered it stealing no matter how long we worked without a break.
“The guy at 62 kept asking me out. He kept saying he wants to share a slice of cherry pie with me one day.”
“Hahaha! Cherry pie? That’s random. What was he suggesting?”
“Cherry pie came up cuz his mother asked if it was good and I said it was my favorite. That’s what I say every time someone asks me about a pie,” said Theatrical Server with great élan. She was a natural flirt. In addition to working at The Pie Shoppe, she was a lead singer in a band, went to college full-time, had an active social life, and generally burned the candle at all ends.
She went on. “So, he just paid and left me a $3 tip. The bill was $24. He was still talking ‘bout wanting to share cherry pie when he walked out of here. That’s messed up!”
Manager Server said, with a wry grin, “So, you gonna go out with him?”
“No! I don’t get it. That tip’s insulting. Plus he asks me out. What’s he thinking? I would’ve been okay if he gave me just one dollar more. Two more dollars would’ve impressed me!”
“Did you wanna go out with him?”
“Dude! No! That’s beside the point.” Theatrical Server’s pale emerald eyes glittered.
“Maybe he doesn’t know how to tip.” She was still grinning.
“Shit! He doesn’t know how to date.”