scooter and i went to charlie’s in harvard square for lunch on thanksgiving, sammiches and burgers, we split jalapeno poppers. it was kinda funny, they were playing pokemon and football on the tvs, blaring pop radio over the speakers. leave it to a bar to be open on thanksgiving, peeople need to get their drinks, of course.
our waitstaff was a mix of a youngish dude that i haven’t seen at charlie’s before and an older woman who was definitely frazzled and kinda scatterbrained. she forgot our drinks, then came and asked us if we wanted them again, always asking the time and fidgeting. i got the impression she’d been there as long as they had been open, whenever that was.
she seemed like a nice woman, blue eyes, that greyish-blonde hair of someone that might have been a strawberry blonde in their younger years, soft face, not weighed down with wrinkles yet. she could easily be someone’s grandma or mother, some friendly neighbor lady you could picture making cookies for christmas and crocheting. probably has a cat or something. the kind of woman that would call everyone ‘dearie’. out of her apron, you wouldn’t rightly peg her for a waitress at a bar/restaurant.
when we finished, she came over and asked if we wanted our check, and we said yes. and then she said how she’s already 75 and still working there. how she had been there all day and was tired.
“but when you get to be like me, this is all you have. if i didn’t have this, i’d probably be in a nursing home or something. there’d be no reason, it keeps you going.”
…
i wanted to cry.
