From His Perspective

Chapter 9

James sat on an empty, upside-down, white five-gallon container. He rested the back of his head against the back of the building and slowly smoked his cigarette. There was always a slight lull between breakfast and lunch crowds. It never lasted long, but it gave him a chance to sneak outside. He preferred busy times. The respite left him with too much time on his hands. Being alone with his thoughts never ended well.

The diner occupied the hours of his day. The routine when he clocked out was simple.

He’d get home, change into sweatpants and a t-shirt, and he’d run with his dog, Rigatoni. Rigs. They would do a couple of miles. He listened to music when he ran. Instinctively, he sang along with each song. Like cooking at a busy diner, listening to music kept James from thinking.

“James.”

He opened his eyes. Monty had his head out the back door. “Monty! When did you get here, buddy?” He dropped his cigarette on the loose gravel and ground out the ember with the heel of his boot.

“Just now.” Monty, a twenty-two-year-old black man with Down Syndrome, worked as a dishwasher at Second Breakfast five days a week, Monday through Friday. The rest of the time the cooks ran the dishes through the washer and scrubbed their own pots and pans.

James realized Monty had been with Tubs for nearly two years.

“Starting to get busy in there?” James asked.

Monty shook his head. “No. It’s not getting busy. Ms. Cortland said that girl is here for the job interview.”

The interview. Wonderful. “Hey, I may need your help with something. Feel like giving me a hand?”

“Yes, James. What do you need me to do?”

“Help me interview this woman for the open waitress spot.”

Monty’s cheeks reddened. “How can I help you do that?”

“You are a great judge of character. Do you know what that means?”

“I can tell who is good and who is bad?” Monty asked.

James got to his feet and dusted his hands off on his apron. “That is exactly right. I’ll even let you ask her some questions.”

“And if I like her we can hire her?”

“We will give Tubs our opinion.”

“And what if we don’t like her?”

“Then we will tell Tubs just that. What do you say? Can you give me a hand?”

Monty shrugged. “I guess I can try and do my best.”

James patted his friend on the shoulder. Monty was a hugger, though. In return, Monty wrapped his arms around James. “That’s the spirit. You said she’s here?”

“She’s sitting at a booth in the diner. Dana brought her a soda. She has pretty red hair, like the color of a carrot, and pretty green eyes.”

“Oh, she does, does she?” James laughed, his arm still around Monty’s shoulder. “Let’s go get this over with then. How does that sound?”

“Well, but I’ve got all of these dishes from breakfast I need to wash.”

“You can do those after we interview the woman for the position.”

“It’s a lot of dishes.”

“This won’t take long. And I’ll give you a hand getting caught up.”

Monty eyed the bus tray filled with plates, a few glasses, and silverware. James washed dishes as they came back from the dining area, until about eleven-thirty. Then he stopped. He always left a full bus tray waiting for when Monty got to work.

“How about if I get behind you can help me. I’m a pretty good dishwasher. I can probably do the interview with you and still get all of my dishes washed on time.”

James grinned. “I’m certain you can.”

“But if I fall behind—”

“I won’t let you fall behind, Monty.”

“But if I do. If I fall behind, then you can help me catch up.”

“It’s a deal.” James pushed open the swinging door and held it for Monty. “Shall we interview the lady now.”

James followed Monty into the dining area. He picked up an order pad and a pen from the cup of pens by the register. There were a few people eating, and sitting alone in the back corner booth was a lone woman. “Her?” James asked.

Monty nodded.

They approached together.

The woman climbed out of the booth, smiling, and held out a hand. She was around five-foot-five and was just as Monty described. She wore her hair pulled back in a messy bun and was dressed in smarty navy blue pin-stripe suit pants and a white blouse. “I’m Charlie Rosen. Charlene. But everyone calls me Charlie. Are you … Tubs?”

Monty snickered, a hand covered his mouth.

James gave Monty a playful push and then shook the offered hand. “Alan, ah, Tubs, couldn’t make it this afternoon. I’m James. Tubs asked me … he asked Monty and me to conduct today’s interview.”

Charlie’s practice smile faltered. James understood. She expected an interview with the boss and owner. Having a cook and dishwasher in charge must have been disappointing. Just as James was about to apologize, she regained composure.

“Well, then you must be Monty?” She held her hand out.

Monty looked up at James, in awe. “How did she know I was Monty?”

“I just told her your name. Shake Charlie’s hand, Monty.”

Monty shook her hand but stared up at James in continued disbelief.

“Charlie? Please, take a seat,” James said. “Monty?”

Monty climbed into the booth, across from Charlie. James snagged a chair from one of the tables and sat on the end. “Okay, Ms. Rosen.”

“Charlie.”

“I know, but it just feels more professional this way.”

“Oh, sure. Whatever works.”

James consulted the blank order pad as if reviewing written questions. “Do you have any waitress experience?”

“I … do … not.” She smiled and wrinkled her nose as if embarrassed.

Monty grinned.

James asked, “Do you have customer service experience?”

“Some. I worked for a telemarketing firm. We helped trouble-shoot cell phone problems.”

“Explain a time when you had to handle an irate customer?”

Charlie didn’t hesitate. “Ever have a problem with your phone?”

“I don’t have a cell.”

Her eyes widened. “What, a smartphone? What do you use, a flip?”

“I don’t have a phone at all,” he said. “We’re getting off track.”

“I just, I never met a person who didn’t have a cell phone,” she said.

“And handling irate customers?” He pointed the woman back in the right direction.

The interview lasted about fifteen minutes. Monty asked a question or two when prompted by James.

Customers began entering Second Breakfast. Food orders would be backing up.

“I think we’re done for today,” James said. “Oh, one more. How are you about working nights and weekends?”

“I’m fine with that.”

“Holidays?”

She c****d her head slightly to the side. “Prefer not to, but I’ll do what I have to do.”

It was an honest answer.

“Well?” Charlie asked.

“Well, what?” James said.

“Do I have the job?”

“Monty and I will discuss the interview with Tubs when he gets back, and I am sure he will call you either way. Thank you for your time.” He turned to go.

Monty didn’t move.

“I have an apartment, it’s more like a couple of rooms, just down the road from here. I just moved in last week. Walking distance. And I can start as soon as tomorrow,” she offered. “If you’d like.”

James stopped and turned around. “We’ll let Tubs know. Thank you. Monty? Let’s go.”