Friday, September 4, 2009

The Busboy

The first time he spoke to me was when he served the coffee at the end of the dinner. After placing the cup and pouring from the silver pot in his hand he said, “I forgot to bring the sugar and cream. After a pause he added shyly, “This my first day her and I don’t remember everything yet.”

Although I have difficulty remembering busboys and waitresses, I had noticed him because he walked as though he was not quite sure of his body and his face had an earnest but unanimated look.

I was sitting alone in the roof top luxury restaurant in a hotel in the Colorado Mountains awaiting the start of a Child Welfare League of America on children and youth. None of my friends had yet arrived and so I had no company for dinner. The inexpensive hotel coffee shop on the ground with its air of transience and filled with men and women eating quickly to get to their next appointment, was uninviting. Loneliness encourages me to extravagance, I found my way to the hotel’s luxury restaurant. Surrounded by elegance and pampered by an attentive staff. I had worked my way to the coffee.

“I don’t use sugar or cream,” I said, “so I don’t mind.” Because he still looked pained I said, “First days can be hard.”

“Yes, but I am trying,” he said. “I graduated from Vocational School

last year and I couldn’t get a job.”

“I’m glad you found one and I wish you the best of luck.”

On the way out I stopped at the reservation desk and asked to speak with the manager. Larry Mullins was his name and after mixing a salad to a table of four, he approached me.

After introducing myself, I said, “I just wanted to say something about your new busboy. I was impressed with how he wants to please people, not only me but I was watching him at other tables. You don’t find too many people like that anymore. I hope he make it.”

“You mean Daniel,” said Mullins. “It’s nice of you to mention it. He is mentally retarded but I mean to keep him. He been out of school a year and I told everyone here that I don’t care what happens, he is going to stay. I can make him learn.

I choked a little, told Mr. Mullins I was glad to hear that. We shook hands and I walked away feeling that this conference for children had already peaked for me.

More Later, Joe

No comments:

Post a Comment