togomo

My Friends,
I want to sincerely thank you all for your extraordinary efforts in responding to me and my situation. As I look over the post archives, I realize that nothing I've written about is happening to me exclusively; mine are simply the same problems we've all had, just rehashed yet again with different words. But I wasn't penalized for my redundancy, in fact I was embraced by the best of you and for that I am truly grateful.
You know, I realize that my current position as a waitress isn't the most interesting (and certainly not the most impressive) career going. In fact, I hesitated before telling you of it for fear you'd think less of me somehow. Guys, it kind of hurt to see in (my own) words just what had come of my once-promising life. But then I examined my feelings more closely and I came to the realization that I'm not a bit ashamed of what I do. There is no shame in an honest living. There is, however, shame in what I was doing to my life and my family's life when I was so hopelessly hooked on oxycontin.
Shame was there when I'd awaken at dawn, sweating and shivering, wearing the same clothes as the day before and knowing I'd be wearing them again as my restless legs and me tried to sleep again that night. Shame was there when I was explaining to Andrew just why we hadn't the money to rent a movie and pop some corn (explaining with a slight lisp, that is, as I sucked the time-release coating off yet another $25. oxycontin.) Shame was there when the twins would catch me on the floor behind my bed, sliding the teflon frying pan back beneath my bed after I'd snorted myself high, the clang of the crushing spoon against the penknife notwithstanding.) Shame visited when I stood in the doctor's office trying to sell the story that my medication had been stolen yet again, as the nurses frowned and nodded knowingly to one another. The winceable shame when my dad asked me how the kids liked the pajamas I was supposed to've bought with the $100. he gave me just before Christmas. The terrible, excruciating shame when my late brother's daughters once asked, "What things did you and my daddy used to do for fun?"
There are things, I think, that could drive a person mad if they were dwelled upon and allowed to creep into our present states of mind. It is as though I am siamese twins who, instead of getting along, are angry at one another and trying to run in separate directions, each desperate to escape his destiny-dealt partner. It is for these reasons that I am determined to look at the now, at the future, at anyplace but back. It is for this reason that I have no shame in announcing to you my friends that I serve eggs and coffee for a living.
And hey, this waiting tables business isn't all bad. In fact, it's more interesting that one would think. Take, for example, the biggest tip I received last night. This guy, average looking, mid-thirties, comes in and tells me to set the table for two. As I'm doing this, he tells me that his "girlfriend is outside talking to her boyfriend." Trying hard not to noticeably puzzle over this, I asked him if he wanted to start with coffee. He ordered two, then proceded to explain to me his dilemna.
"Guess my age!"
"Uh - no, I'm not - I'm never good at that."
"Come ON, guess! NOBODY gets this right!"
Liking the challenge, I took the bait, guessing low so as not to blow any possible tipping abilities this fellow may have.
"I'm saying - 28, 30?"
"HIGHER!" he beams.
"31, 32 tops," I played along, glancing about for the Invisible Girl.
"Wrong AGAIN!" he cries, shaking his head almost violently. "This happens EVERY time!"
"My gosh, you can't be over 35 - no way!" I declared after noticing he'd pulled up in a Beamer.
"I'm 36!"
"NO!"
"If I'm lyin' I'm dyin' -- wanna see my driver's license?"
"Thirty-SIX? That is amazing!" I faked, tiring of this game.
In walks a pretty but bored-looking young girl who ignored his excited patting of the seat next to him and sat instead across from him. She looked miserable. Thankfully, he turned his attention exclusively to her.
"Tell me what you want to eat - you can get ANYTHING on the menu!" he declared proudly, as though he was delivering good news about her last lottery ticket.
"All I want is a bathroom," she sighs. I pointed it out and poured a cup of decaf for Boy Wonder. I had no other customers, and to be honest I felt a little sorry for him. He had NO chance with this girl - my God, I'd known him three minutes and was already tiring fast of his enthusiasm. It had been a slow night, though, and when he said, "I'll leave you a great tip if you'll do me a favor" I leaned in close to hear the details. So he says,
"Listen, I'M hungry, so I'm eating. She probably won't. All you have to do is, for the ten minutes it'll take me to eat, keep giving me compliments. About my clothes, my car, anything. Just make it sound like you mean it."
As I pondered this (wondering why I hadn't chosen a SIMPLE career, like say rocket science) his brooding girlfriend returned. Fingering the two-dollars-something in my tip pocket, I decided to go for it. I started slow,
"My GOD, you smell SO good!"
He was beaming. I went on, "Most men don't realize that instead of a lot of BAD cologne, just a touch of the expensive stuff is SO attractive." He pretended to blush, looking over the menu. I exclaimed that I had in fact embarrassed him, and added that his complexion was even more perfect when blushing. He ordered a waffle and eggs, and I took his menu only after exclaiming that I was sure I'd seen him somewhere before, and then, "No, I know who you look like! I don't know his name, but my daughter has a poster of him in her room - one of People Magazine's 100 Most Beautiful People!" He smiled as though he got that a lot, and I was humming as I went off to scramble his eggs. His ladyfriend had unceremoniously declared that she would surely "heave" if she ate anything, so I didn't push the issue.
As I cooked, I listened as he told this poor girl that he owned three cars and his own home. I hummed on. At one point, he asked her what her favorite movie was. I liked the question, but before she could answer, he revealed that he was partial to "Top Gun," and he began, much to my horror, a frame-by-frame description of the movie. I decided to serve the eggs soft so as to rescue this poor girl from the nightmare that was her date.
Hating myself for it, I made one more effort while serving the eggs, this time directing my bull(^&* to the doomed date.
"What a lucky lady you are!" I marveled. "I mean, I overhear a lot of conversations in this place, and it is SO refreshing to hear someone who's articulate AND so funny they can make me laugh out loud! This guys a keeper!" I said, winking knowingly at the both of them. The guy was clearly tickled beyond words. Satisfied I'd served up enough eggs, toast, and crap to've earned a tenspot, I left their bill on the table. The cook gave me a "I've-been-watching-you-and-man-can-you-shovel-it" look and I smiled back sweetly.
Less than half an hour after they'd arrived, the couple stood and prepared to go, he looking pleased with himself and her eyes glazed in misery. I went to the register to collect their payment, and the guy slid a bill beneath his check (which totaled just over five bucks,) winked at me, and said, "Keep the change."
When the door closed behind them, I opened my hand and unfolded the bill he'd placed there. It was a fifty.
I'm not ashamed that I serve coffee and eggs to hungry travelers for a living, for there is no shame there.
Thanks again, friends, for listening to me. As we continue on our individual journeys, we should take comfort in one another's experiences - our victories and disappointments - in this collective coaster-ride we've been lucky enough to share. Let us continue to rally for each other, let's be there when friends and family have seemed to give up. The strength in our number is extraordinary, as is my gratefulness to each one of you who have allowed me to share my life with you.
Let me hear from you, be good to yourself, and of course as one Tiny Tim liked to say, "God bless us every one."
Your Friend,
Tonnie M.