The Waiter Chronicles (Part 4)

There's a waiter at the restaurant that everybody calls "Grandpa." He's been a waiter for over 20 years in Italian restaurants and has even run his own. He lets me follow him around, taking drink orders at his tables. I did that for awhile today, but when it started to get busy near the end of lunch, with people coming and going at the same time, I drifted away from him and focused on getting the tables cleared and re-set. There's another relatively new guy who's been showing me how that all works, so I jumped in to help him.

After lunch was over, Grandpa approached me and said, "Let me ask you this: do you want to be a waiter in training or a bus boy?" I put my hand on his shoulder and looked straight into his face to answer.

"A waiter. Definitely a waiter."

"Then you need to stay with me and let [the other new guy] bus the tables."

A little confused, I asked, "Isn't he a waiter in training too?"

"Yes, but . . ." his voiced trailed off. I picked it up again as he was stressing, "You have to tell [the owner], 'I'm ready. Give me some tables.'"

It seems like Grandpa is trying to take me under his wing and then push me out of the nest. Tomorrow I stick to his side and mimic his every move.