June 18th 2016
Today I started to tell my regular customers that I was leaving work (waiter, restaurant) I guess now that I’ve handed in my two week notice I’m beginning to get all sentimental and keep saying “this might be the last time I see you!” to customers I serve regularly. Or maybe I’m just excited about starting the job and want to tell people about it, I don’t know.
One of them said today “I always thought you were too clever to work here”
Thanks, I think.
“Where are you going now?” Another said. “You look like an IT guy”
I don’t really know what ‘an IT guy’ looks like, but I doubt you’d take a picture of one into a hair salon and say “make me look like him”, so I feel I should probably be offended by that comment. “It’s the glasses, isn’t it?” I replied.
In a roundabout way I am kind of going into IT, kinda sorta maybe. So he’s kinda right.
It’s weird to think that I’ve been serving some of these customers for like… 5 years. They’ve seen me come and go through Uni and I’ve seen them come and go as well. I’ve got an hours glimpse once a fortnight into their lives. I’ve seen them come in pregnant one week, and with a newborn baby the next. And five years later that baby has just started school.
I almost have a different regular for every day of the week. There’s the Monday boys. Two middle aged blokes who come in every Monday and discuss the weekends footballing action.
Tuesday I have Andy, the takeaway bloke, who orders the same two pizzas every week. I’ve started to put the order in before he calls.
Wednesday night club is the pensioners. One old bloke and his five female friends. I’ve always pondered on their dynamic but I’ve never asked. Their order is always the same too.
Thursday brings the guy who reads. Each week he has a new book, the same pizza, and a different beer. He’s one of my favourites.
Friday the families start to come in. The kids are great when they’re quiet, and they use me as a way of scaring their kids straight. “Stay sat down or the man will tell you off” I’m the man, apparently.
Saturday is for couples. There’s the blind lady and her husband. As soon as I see them come in I take a bowl of fresh tortilla chips to their table, because I know the lady only eats the nachos on the salad bar. The bloke with the pony tail and his wife were in today, he’s the one who said I looked like an IT guy. There’s another older couple who share a small pizza, and they’re only technically allowed one bowl, but I let them both have free salad bar because they’re cute and old and lovely.
Sunday the only regulars are the ones that come in with their newborn baby at 930pm. Thirty minutes before we close and I want to go home. I don’t like them.
When I think about it there are tonnes that I haven’t mentioned, and a few that I’ve not seen in a while. But every time I serve them they say “good to see you again”. And I don’t know their names. They know mine, but only because it says it in big bold letters at the top of the bill. And the customer-server relationship we have is a weird one, because you feel like you know them because you see them for one hour every couple of weeks, but really you don’t. It just feels like it.
And pretty soon, one day, they’ll walk in and I won’t be there. I’ll have moved on. And that’s sad, and also happy.
Until tomorrow, to all my regulars…