Chef’s Salad!

So I’m sitting a restaurant in a town I was hanging out in about fifteen years ago and I’m having my usual cheeseburger, fries and a coke.

The waitress, about my age with a kind face, we don’t talk much. She asks me why I’m always eating a cheeseburger, fries and a coke. Telling me it’s not good for me.

I mean I’ve been going to that place for a few years and she hasn’t really said boo to me, just “hey” “what can I get ya?” “here’s the check” and so forth. All the sudden she want me to eat better.

So, I said, “What the hell do you care what I eat?”

She smiled a fake smile at me and sarcastically said, “Drop dead from that crap, see if I care.”

I smiled back at her. I love this kinda stuff. Love how we can say the meanest things, but care.

We both just look at each other for a long minute and that was that, last time we talked about anything other than waitress customer stuff.

After a couple of weeks, I stopped going to that place. Found another joint nearby.

But you know what? At the new joint, I ordered a chef’s salad and a cup of coffee and it was good.

I stopped with the cheeseburger, fry and a coke thing altogether.

I know why I always ate that, but it seemed time to let that go.