Of all my customers in over 40 years in the hospitality industry, Hal would have to be my favorite “Villages” knucklehead.
I served Hal for the first time at Billy’s Cafe about 10 years ago. He was already a regular at the restaurant when I started working there. You could say he was like a “mascot” to the establishment. Everyone knew him, and all the staff liked him. He would come in and get his own drink, and then order his meal in a code that all the servers and cooks knew. His usual was a “Love Omelet,” named that because “Mama Bear” (the restaurant’s head cook and manager) always prepared it with special care – even remembering daily to pull the perfect biscuit to the side just in case he came in later in the morning and we were already sold out.
He was not a picky man. He was generous and giving. However, he was the most opinionated man I had ever met, and that is a hard title to win. Yes, the only real negative aspect about Hal’s normally friendly disposition was that this healthy, attractive, financially secure, middle-aged man was full of outspoken comments on anything and everything. Being a lifetime bachelor, he probably hasn’t had anyone edit or sensor his vocabulary in public since his mother as a young child. Until, of course, I came around.
Sure, he was older than me, but not enough to be my dad. It was more like an older cousin, but when I waited on him I felt more like his mother. He suddenly had a challenge. I was from Jersey and I came with witty comebacks and constant opposition to his sometimes unkind, catty comments about others in the restaurant or anyone else he felt like critiquing that day. I am not saying I do not judge others at first glance, and yes I too sometimes have not-so-nice comments about total strangers. Hal, on the other hand, sometimes took it to a new level even for me. After a while, I felt no shame in calling him out on certain unnecessary evaluations.
One day, Hal was in the restaurant and a very attractive, young woman came in with a reasonably older man. As they walked through the dining room, they seemed very happy and giggly. They sat across from Hal where he and the man faced each other, but the lady had her back to Hal’s booth. Immediately, even before they had sat down, I could see Hal shaking his head and making facial expressions as he huffed under his breath. When I did make it over to his table to find out what was causing him such distress, he, with no shame or consideration of how loud his voice was, said, “What on Earth is she doing with him?”
To which I quickly responded, “Hush!”
But that didn’t stop him. He went on to comment on what he believed were the top reasons that “pretty young thing” would want to be with that “old man,” and none of them were nice or necessary. Again, I insisted he hush!
Eventually, though, the couple did overhear something they thought was off and questioned me about Hal’s problem. The gentleman said he could sense that Hal kept staring at him. I immediately changed the mood by quickly explaining that “my friend” was just admiring how lovely his lady friend was, and how he said, “You must be a very lucky guy.”
Lucky for me and Hal, the man was flattered that he found his DAUGHTER so appealing. With that, Hal learned a very valuable lesson, one I am amazed he had somehow missed learning in all of his years on the planet. “If you don’t have anything nice to say then don’t say anything at all. Or at least don’t say it loud enough to cause a ruckus.”
It was at that moment a friendship was created, and we pledged to be each other’s confessional. This way, we could release all the negativity we had toward society and the world as a whole, hopefully, without hurting anyone’s feelings ever again. A big request, considering the two of us, but we were going to give it our best effort. Together we were going to help mold each other into better human beings. We took a, “what is said at the Cafe’ stays at the Cafe’” pledge, and a bond was created that my husband didn’t mind us having. A friendship where Hal could come to the restaurant and help me understand why my husband and grandson are so weird, and I could help him understand why he would NEVER understand the bipolar-type women he unfortunately was attracted to.
You do the math. I share all my day-to-day unbelievable stories about work, married life, motherhood, and grandmotherhood, so he can feel better about being an only child with no children, only an unconditionally loving Labrador waiting at home for him?! Yeah, sounds rough.
Sure the grass always seems greener on the other side. Yet, somehow, we both manage to survive each day in our own bizarre way – trying to enjoy each day’s new adventures, and while Hal continues to search for his perfect “Mona Lisa Vito” to spend the rest of his days with, I will try to be there for him when he encounters his next, “Oh my gosh what was I thinking” companion.
Not that I’m a matchmaker, but if you happen to know someone in the village grapevine looking for an athletic, younger version of Robert Redford, that I have personally groomed, and is housebroken and trained, please give me a shout! You never know, maybe serving and storytelling aren’t my only “natural gifts?!”
Laugh on. Peace out!
Lisa DeMarco is waitress at Billy’s Cafe and a columnist for Villages-News.com