“Boy, this place
sure has changed a lot since I last worked here,” the man in the black jacket
said to himself.
With
the temperature at a chilling nine degrees Fahrenheit, and snow gently making
its way to the ground, it felt nice to be inside a warm restaurant and passing
the time. It wasa Friday night, but the restaurant was not as busy as it should
have been; maybe it was the cold weather, or something else that deterred
business. In one of the rooms nearby, there was a sweet sixteen going on, but
aside from that, there were only three tables occupied on the main floor.
The
man in the black jacket looked longingly at the restaurant and how much it has
changed since he last worked there. He could even see himself, as a nineteen
year old, going to tables, filling up water, and bringing out food. He still
heard the bands playing at the stage up front, even though there weren’t going
to be any more bands. The staff was not too busy and was mostly standing
around, waiting for something to do; some of them were still there when he
worked there last. Other members of the staff had either been fired or quit for
one reason or another. When those who worked with him saw him, they gave him
hugs, and inquired about how his life has been.
The
man looked forward to seeing them again, and told them that he was doing fine
and how life had opened new doors and opportunities for him. He didn’t go into
too much detail since he didn’t want to overburden them with how he was. One of
the waitresses he spoke to filled him in on what has been happening since he
left, and what she had to say wasn’t all too good:
“It’s
been quiet around here. We still have a birthday, a party, or a catering event
every now and then, but business has been really slow, and the former manager
and head chef have quit. I’ve already started looking for new jobs because
something tells me this place does not have too much longer to go,” the
waitress said.
“Really?
Has it gotten that bad?” The man in the black jacket asked.
“I’m
afraid so. The menus have been changed up more than it should, and the owners
really have stopped looking out for this place. We have a new head chef, but
she’s not as good as the last one, and it really has shown in the feedback we
get.”
“Wow,
I’m so sorry to hear that.”
“It’s
no problem, it’s out of my control anyway.”
The
man in the jacket gave the waitress a hug to let her know that he was glad to
see her again, and went back to his place at the bar. To him, the place looked
dramatically different than it had when he was working there. He remembered
when it had opened the summer of his second year of college and how the manager
promised he would make good money. It had a great view of the Hudson River and
the food was a blend of Mediterranean cuisine. Some of it was French, Italian,
Balkan, Middle Eastern, Israeli, North African, and even from countries he had
never heard before. He wasn’t entirely sure whom this was supposed to be
marketed to, but it found its customers, and the atmosphere seemed more of the
jazzy, cool type where old men would bring their illegally young girls on
dates.
The
restaurant attracted all kinds of weirdos, but as long as it was making money
there was no reason to complain. Once again, he saw the younger version of
himself rushing to tables of customers who once ate at the restaurant, but
never returned. He delivered the trays of those little cheese puffs, which were
addicting little things. The cheese puffs he ate now were rock hard, cold, and
dry, as opposed to the puffs he snuck when he was younger. They were buttery, bursting
with flavor, and one could never get enough of them. But now, these puffs lost
all flavor, and even seemed to have lost all its life, leaving just another
tray to be eaten; but not consumed.
The
man heard noises coming from the kitchen, which sounded like yelling, but from
a voice that didn’t sound like it belonged there. He didn’t know who exactly it
was, but he didn’t care enough to find out. It was a voice that simply didn’t
fit in the atmosphere. It passed through the kitchen doors and into the bar
area where it struggled to find a place, any place, where it could resonate in
peace. But the place was too different and the voice too foreign. When the
place opened two years ago, it could have found a place, but now that the
restaurant solidified its identity, there was nowhere the voice could feel safe
in.
The
time for identity searching was over. The days when the restaurant was a vacuum
were finished. It had steeped itself in what the owners and the customers made
it into, and the man in the black jacket agreed that it was a good identity to
have. The only problem he had with it was that he knew it wouldn’t last too
much longer; it couldn’t last too much longer. As with anything, it had to find
out what it was to become. When it did, IF it did, then it would have to hope
that it could survive as that.
The
more the man looked around, the more ghosts he saw. He saw himself, along with
the other workers who were no longer there. He saw the first manager, the
second one, and the third one, all doing what they did to keep the place
afloat. He saw the people eating in the different parts of the restaurant, and
the messes they made when they left. The urgent need arose in him to grab a
napkin and wipe down every table on the floor, but there was no need to. There
was someone else who was being paid to do that, someone that wasn’t him. He
knew where the water pitchers were kept, where to get those cheese puffs and
how to prepare them with the olive oil and herbs. The worker’s station was
beckoning him but the man knew that he couldn’t go back there since he no
longer worked there.
The
ghosts of the man and the previous workers scrambled across the restaurant,
trying their best to provide the service they could. Customers waved them over
and told him what they needed; some were pleasant and fun to talk to while
others, he remembered, were unreasonable and unbearable. For those customers
who were awful, he remembered wanting to end their existences by either
slipping something into their food, or outright stabbing them. Thankfully he
didn’t do it, but they caused more trouble than they were worth.
But
there were some customers who were happy to have him and made the job
worthwhile. Sometimes he would talk to them about the election of 2016 and give
them a little history on the restaurant. These kinds of customers were the ones
worth having and always left a generous tip if you got to know them beyond
consumers. Good luck getting them to be your customers though.
The
man in the black jacket continued to look around the restaurant as the ghosts
from the past faded away into the ether of memory. It was still snowing outside
and looked as though it wouldn’t stop until at least the next morning. The
sweet sixteen was winding down now and whatever few tables remained left for
the night. In a few minutes, the decorations would be taken down and the room
would be set up as usual again; but for now, the girls were enjoying the last
few minutes they had. The man stood by the bar and watched as people gradually
left the restaurant one by one. When the last person from the party left, the
room was nothing more than empty plates, deflating balloons, and faded party
decorations. He offered to help the servers clean up some of the mess, but they
declined his offer and assured them that it was under control. The man in the
black jacket watched as the tables were moved back into place and set up.
“This
was the last party we have for a long time to come.” The waitress said to him.
“Do
you know when the next party is, if there is one scheduled?” The man said.
“There’s
supposed to be a luncheon for a funeral next month, but until then, there’s
nothing planned. There’s not even anything after that so far.”
“Times
really have been tough here haven’t they?”
“Yep,
but I’m just a waitress. I don’t want to be co-owner, head chef, or manager,
because when this place goes, I’ll have lost my job, and nothing more.”
The
waitress continued to set up the plates and move the tables as the man recalled
catering for a wedding in that room. It was quite a scene with flowers and
bells and boughs all over the place and the happy couple seated at the front of
the room. That was all a long time ago, and the restaurant was still in its
prime when it happened. Now, it was downhill from there. The restaurant had its
youth, its fun, and its rites, but the man and the rest of the staff knew that
it wouldn’t be too much longer until it met its end.
The
man in the black jacket made his way back to the bar and paid for his drink and
the cheese puffs. Since there were no more customers, the manager decided to
close up early. The wait staff said their goodbyes to the man, as he said his
to them, promising that he would see them again at some point or another. The
snow outside was starting to build up, and he decided that it would be best to
head home.
Before
the man turned the key in his car, he could see the snow pile up on the
restaurant as the roof was covered in an inch of snow. The lights were switched
off inside and he could see the manager locking the door as he pulled out of
the parking lot. He knew that it would open the next day; it had to. But the
man knew that one day its doors would close for good. What was horrifying was
that it was closer than him or any of the staff could think; and no amount of
nostalgia could bring it back.
