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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