cutting the lemons.

Originally written January 26, 2003

When I first started working at Vintner's, I couldn't stand Andrea.

She's the veteran of the wait staff. She's been there longer than almost anyone in the whole restaurant, beat out only by the owners and Larry the dishwasher. Next month will be the anniversary of her having worked there a year. At Vintner's, where time is very very different, that's a long time indeed.

She's a true Boone hippie, with all the trimmings. The rare times I've seen her off-duty, she was wearing thong sandals and flowing flower skirts. She wears funky hemp jewelry and is a vegetarian. She does it for the animals and for her health. She also smokes. She is apparently very concerned about the environment.

That leads to what first bothered me so much about Andrea. She was constantly pissed off at people over very tiny matters. At least once a day, I would see Andrea reach in the trash, pull out a wine or a beer bottle, hold it up and say, "We recycle!" as loudly as possible. Man, I hated that. Or sometimes someone would put a bar glass in the regular glass rack. Again, the reaching, the lifting up high, the loud announcement, "This is a bar glass!" That wouldn't be bad if she didn't do it every single day. Other than John, the complete idiot manager, she bothered me more than anyone during my first couple of months. Her whole manner seemed to say that she felt she was surrounded by idiots.

Then one day, we were all hanging around in the back. Someone that Andrea was good friends with was picking on her and her strange ways. I got into the game, even though I didn't feel like I knew Andrea well enough to pick on her at all. Frankly, I was scared of her. I guess I got caught up in the fun, for before I knew it, I was doing a perfect imitation of Andrea's recycling routine. She looked kinda confused, but we were suddenly much better friends, through some cosmic force that I totally do not understand. Suddenly, I too, was in the tiny circle with her, with idiots closing in all around us.

Since then, I have listened to Andrea gripe about many things, but they're often legitimate complaints. Part of the reason she complains about the slackness of others so much is because she actually works there. She cuts the lemons, tears more lettuce, rolls silverware, and restocks the tea just because she sees it needs to be done. And people like that are such a big help when you're a waitress.

So I like Andrea now. We're not buddies or anything, but I know she likes me because she complains to me rather than about me to someone else. She realizes that I can tell the differences between the kinds of glasses. We have an understanding now.

And for the record, I haven't seen her hold a recyclable aloft in months.