Breakfast

I’m enjoying an artichoke omelet for breakfast at Gitsis. Sitting at the counter I’m in the midst of three waitresses as they place orders and hurry meals out to their booths. A nearby menu is continually flipped open – with cursing – for a price check. The waitresses are seasoned pros, but a new menu was recently printed with new pricing.

The phone rings; likely a Greek-speaking food disitributor or the teen-aged developmentally disabled son of K, my waitress. It’s a Greek. George, Gitsis’ Greek proprietor, gets on the phone and fires off his order, mixing English food items and Greek quantities: “fish fry – dodeka!”  He hangs up and it rings again – K’s son looking for his lunch money.

“It should be right there on the kitchen table, honey,” she says, rolling her eyes in my direction.

Busy as she is, D reaches in her purse behind the counter and slides me the latest photos of her two toddler grandchildren. I can never remember their names, and I’ve never met them, but I’ve seen their pictures so many times I could pick them out of a crowd.

George’s 26-year-old daughter, the third waitress, stops to tell me about her new job. She wants to break out of the restaurant business. I wrote her resume when she finished beautician school six months ago; she finally landed a part-time position.

I’m enjoying an artichoke omelet. With a side of life.

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One Comment on “Breakfast”

  1. delwin17 Says:

    You do realise just how lucky you are to be up in the morning watching the world wake up. That’s not a question. Those diners and eateries with familiar strangers that become family the instant suddenly one is out of rythm cross America. Just reading about it after waking up from a good dream makes the day. A world without problems to solve would really really suck. Take a marker with you tomorrow and mark out the prices for a real eye opener. And when the waitress begins to jump on you just point at the guy next to you.


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