TOAST

This morning this French Canadian chick came into the shop. “Do you have bagels?” she asked Ollie.
“No,” he said.
“Why?” she asked him.
“Because we’re not Kosher.”
“Do you have toast?”
“Yeah.”
“Fine. I’ll have an order of whole wheat toast. Do you have marmalade?”
“No. We have raspberry preserves.”
The chick sighed in frustration. “Do you have peanut butter?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll have an order of whole wheat toast with jam and peanut butter.”
“Do you want anything to drink?”
“No.”
Ollie punched in the order of toast into the cash register.
“I’ve changed my mind. I’m going to have coffee with my toast.”
He didn’t bother asking her if she wanted dark or medium roast, he just poured her a cup from the nearest urn.
I had just taken over cooking from Matilda who was going off shift. There were a handfull of orders up already and it was getting busier. I pulled the toast off the grill, but had to dig around for a fresh jar of peanut butter. I was scooping some out when the French Canadian chick comes up, and takes the plate of toast.
“I’m going to take my toast before it gets cold.”
“Don’t you want your peanut butter?” I yelled behind her.
She comes back for the peanut butter. Then I waited a second.
“Do you have a knife?” she asks. So I hand her one.
I wanted to chase her down and hit her in the back of the head. I went to serve Sylvain who was waiting by the cash register. “How are you he asks?” with his own French Canadian accent.
“I’ll be better after a cigarette.”
“Going crazy?”
“No, but people are pushing me there.”
I poured him a cup of half dark, half medium roast coffee.
When I came back from my cigarette, the French chick was talking to Sylvain. After she left the shop, Sylvain came up for a re-fill of coffee. “Do you know her?” Ollie asked.
“She’s not a friend, but she used to come by the restaurant. She was telling me she’s a real bitch in the morning and she can’t control it.”
“You can say that again,” Ollie told him.
“I thought so,” Sylvain said. “I could feel it when I came in.”

GarpinBC