…at the (Irish-y) burger joint in the first floor of a historic hotel, where I work now:
1) A gigantic group of people from a neighboring state is in the large-group dining room, and it’s a bunch of families with kids because a of huge all-weekend soccer tournament thing going on, like forty or fifty people or so all together.
And, as I go around the tables to refill waters and ask people if they want top-offs on sodas, it suddenly becomes apparent to me that a large number of them are (Bosnian), and at one round table full of dads, like a men’s table where the men have gathered and are drinking and talking apart from the kids’ table and this other mixed wives-and-kids table where one (skinny) (blonde) (middle school-age) (boy) is so tired that he’s actually resting his head on the table as if to go to sleep right there in the restaurant, anyhow, over at the men's table, this one (taller) (late 40s) (bearded) (slightly potbellied) (Bosnian) dad guy like visibly lights up whenever I come near the table, always staring directly at me and my eyes as if to try to catch them, and I also see him turning his head to look at me in the main dining room as everyone from their huge party is leaving in spurts and drabs, processing out from their back dining room to the main door of the restaurant.
And you can just feel it, like, (Bosnian) (dad)-guy wanted me, that much.
And, of course, my first thought was, “Still got it.”
Then, my second thought was that he was checking me out not only when he was there with his man-friends at their man-table, but when his wife and one or more of his young children were physically present in the room, too, he was that into me.
You could just feel the hunger radiating off of him… Just an unbelievably filthy dirty and intense experience, like, he had children in that room from fucking his wife’s pussy, and now he’s turning around and looking at some random waiter guy?
I wonder if he thought of me later, when he masturbated… I really do think that I clicked for him on that level, who knows, maybe my pheromones turned him on or something, I was only a few people away from him at his table, that can happen sometimes in those cases, where someone sparks immediate attraction in someone else like that.
That guy was just that hungry, that (Bosnian) (dad)-guy.
2) After I clock out, I say something to a coworker, and my one (make-upped) (Eastern European last-named) (master’s student) coworker, who always seems to be examining me because I don’t fit in in some way, though she doesn’t quite know how, anyways, she immediately and in a somewhat patronizing tone of voice is like, “Weird,” and then she’s like, “[My first name], did I just hear you swear?!”.
(I have folksy G-rated language that I use a lot with customers, and sometimes that carries over into my interactions with coworkers.)
And, I pause a bit at first because the interaction was offputting, then I’m like, “Me, swear? F*ck no!”
3) When coworkers are off work because everyone got cut early and a few are down at the other end of the bar having (half-price) cocktails and chatting, I too get a (half-price) cocktail, and they invite me down, but I politely decline in order to go sit by myself at the other end of the bar because I need to do my daily vocabulary flashcard study for the one language that I’m learning for dual citizenship purposes, and I say that I have to do it then, because I didn’t have a chance to do it before work, and if I don’t do it then I’ll get home and I'll be lazy and I won’t do it at all.
4) I chit-chat with the one (young) (taller) (macho) (Guatemalan) cook, and he tells me that he just speaks (Spanish), he doesn’t speak any “dialect.”
5) As he comes out through the main dining room to leave for the night and pick up his (half-price) cocktail in a Pepsi to-go cup, the one (straggly-bearded) (thin) (white) (stoner) cook has an incredibly nice green jacket on, and I compliment him on it, and he then starts showing me all the details of its fine workmanship and even its label, and it turns out to be some (Italian designer) jacket that someone had left in the coatroom at the last location of the restaurant and it was there for months and month and months, and so finally he just grabbed it, because it was clear that whoever’s it was, they weren’t coming back for it.
“It fits you like a glove,” I was like. “Nice find.”
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