Your Waitress is Probably a Scorpio

I worked at the Plaza Diner this summer, paying my bills in syrupy singles. Not everyone’s workplace can become like a second home, but mine definitely did. I became comfortable in the chaos: taking care of dozens of customers alongside the ladies I’ve come to love.

I worked with everyone on Sundays, the six of us split up into stations. Olivia, Hortensia, Heidi and I worked in the back dining room, which would already be buzzing by midmorning. Feli was on the short side of booths in the front section, and Alex had the long side. Since they’re by the front door of the diner, they direct the customers where to sit. So the “short” station would usually be full by the time I got there, tiny Feli dashing behind people, her little bun bobbing. When Alex is lazy she sent all the tables to us in the back, but she still managed to snag the old people (typical Capricorn).

Heidi, a fiery Aries, is the town gossip: she knows everyone and everyone’s business. She had a baby last February, and we love passing little Mckenzie around whenever she comes in. It never ceases to amaze me that my belly, and all the other waitress’s bellies, were made to carry and pop out little beings like her. Hortensia and Olivia always give her advice about diaper rashes, home remedies and how to make sure she gets pregnant with a boy next time. She’s 22, and they sometimes ask me if I’m next. I usually answer them with a look of disgust.

The unspoken hierarchy of our Plaza Diner coven places Olivia at the top. Perhaps it’s because she might have been there for the longest, maybe it’s because she’s the glue that keeps that place together. She relies on my ready-to-go attitude, especially when she’s juggling large parties. Olivia’s a pro, I learned from the best.

Hortensia is a sweet, round-faced woman who tells all her tables to have a beautiful day. She’s a Cancer, and one time got teary when Heidi and Alex ganged up on her about some silly accusation. Sometimes poor Cancers tend to take things a little too personally.

Drama can occur with any group of women, and the Plaza Diner waitresses are no exception. Maybe as women we hold ourselves to a higher standard, and expect others to follow suit, causing some rift. Most of our little complaints and tiffs is about the side work, our duties and responsibilities besides customer service. When someone fails to make a bucket of coleslaw or leaves syrup bottles unfilled all hell breaks loose. Luckily these incidences are to a minimum with the constant station shift changes.

Feli is my Scorpio sidekick. She has the typical stand-offish attitude of our zodiac, but indubitably mushy on the inside. She works roughly seventy hours a week, basically living there with the overnight shifts. Feli does it for her daughter, who she recently just bought a car for. Feli and I’s no bullshit work ethic and independence allows us to cowork in harmony, and we always make good money on Wednesdays. The two girls our manager recently hired are Scorpios too. We’re a hard-working breed, and our unbothered demeanor allows us keep up with even the most fickle customer.

Some of the customers at the diner don’t feel like customers at all. They are like the torn maroon booths and laminated menu pages, a part of the diner. Its bread and butter, (pun intended). Some come every Sunday, like the two grandmas from Kingston who always order french toast and sausage. Some come multiple times a week, like Jerry and his family. They stay for hours: him, his wife and his children. Feli always makes Jerry a fresh pot of coffee and Bob, my boss, usually takes care of the bill despite Jerry’s honest protests.

Jane, a sweet Pisces from Gardiner, usually comes on Wednesdays after her pilates class. Her husband had a stroke and she has been stuck with the responsibility of selling the antiques from his days as an auctioneer. She always struggles with what to order, complaining that she’s “fat,” and simply can NOT get the toast that comes complimentary with her mushroom omelette. She always asks about my current boy drama, completely enthralled with my twenty year old life.

And my twenty year life still continues at the Plaza Diner. I look forward to Hortensia’s sing-song: “Hola, Maeve! How are you?” I can’t wait to hear about Heidi taking Mckenzie to the beach for the first time. I hope Olivia’s son is enjoying school and that she can cover for me next Saturday. Work is work, we all have to do it. But when I put on that apron, I am comfortable in the chaos.