He's unusually merry for the morning, flushed cheeks and a contented smile upon his face, the Owner suspects that he's again taken to drinking.
He's not going to last.
The staff tells me that he stinks of booze, I can't tell, I give all the male staff a fairly wide berth out of caution, there are the not infrequent belches and farts that must be navigated around. They watch the security cameras, but they can't see any trace of his drinking, the owner looks around and can find nothing on the bar, suspects him of quick swigs from the bottle, I'm suspecting there might be a hip flask concealed in his slightly capacious trousers.
He's short, bald, looks easily 10 years older than he is, that is what the waiter's lifestyle will do to you. But he seems happy enough. A gold chain flashes from beneath a rolled up cuff, a couple of large and gaudy rings, he's old school, where you tried to look at least as rich as the people you served.
Pouring drinks, carrying a tray or plate, he's got the shakes and has to set things down, sobriety, perhaps, or the long years of drinking catching up to him.
Not even 10 years older than me he's a career waiter, everyone in Calgary knows him, have been served by him somewhere throughout the city. Knowing him is not a good thing, it's an excuse for him to stop and chat and catch up with our customers, he's not so quick as it is and now he's doing less.....
And he talks shit. Waiter shit, in 4 languages, fixing the house, his wife, his trips to the bar where he only drinks soda pop and coffee (being a recovering alcoholic and all), his operations and general health, the importance of having doilies to line the plates with....
We all know he's not long for the course, as soon as someone better walks through the door, it's tough to be too friendly knowing, he knows this as well, brings in sandwiches to share, somewhere in the back of his mind there must be the realization that he's not carrying his weight, that this is just another short stop on the way to unemployment...