The Hungry Waiter

The Hungry Waiter

Steven sat in tattered chair in the small breakroom at Minnie’s Diner listening to Arnold, the owner, deliver a gloomy forecast to the staff about Minnie’s financials. Arnold’s monologue was interrupted by the loud growl of Steven’s stomach, “Sorry, forgot to take lunch today,” Steven said. Everyone knew this was a lie. They all suspected Steven had an eating disorder, or maybe an illness that caused him to have an almost skeletal appearance. What they didn’t know was that he’d been fasting for almost five days and had barely made it through the shift without passing out.

“As I was saying,” said Arnold, drawing attention back to himself, “The numbers are dismal. We’re down 5 percent over last month, and that‘s on top of the 3 percent drop the month before. This fat drug is killing our business. People just aren’t eating like they used to.” Arnold stood at the head of the small table pointing at a red line on the screen that went down and to the right. “We need a miracle folks or we’re closing up shop in three, maybe four months tops.”

“I waited on the Olsen’s yesterday and they ordered off the kids menu. I almost asked if they wanted me to bring them crayons so they could color in the placemat. And today a guy lifted his shirt and jabbed a needle in his stomach while I was pouring him a cup of coffee. It’s unnatural. Their skin’s hanging on ‘em like a thrift store jacket. If you ask me, they looked a whole lot better when they were fat. What are they going to do with all that extra skin?”

“I hear Buffalo Bill’s working on his fall wardrobe lineup.” said Jeff, the head cook.

 “Let’s not be rude, these are our friends and neighbors” Arnold said, “The point is we don’t have a problem getting people in the door, our turnover numbers are good. People just aren’t eating like they used to. They’re ordering salad for dinner for god sakes. What’s happening in this town?”

“The drug companies are tinkering with people’s brains, that’s what,” said Jeff. “You can never stop taking it or you get fat again. You know what they call that? Addiction. Anyone remember a little thing called Oxy? Because I do.” Everyone knew Jeff had rough patch a few years ago when he started taking OxyContin for a back injury he got on the job. He spent three weeks in rehab getting clean.

“How about those side effects?” said Becky, the grand dame of the wait staff. “Gracie Blevins got diarrhea so bad she had to the ER for dehydration. And Clark Fox had some kind of psychotic break and almost ki-”

“Okay, let’s get back on track here. Maybe the stuff is bad for you, but we’re not gonna juice business by telling people they need to stop taking their ‘medication’, ” said Arnold.

“We just need to get people to eat more,” said Steven, so quietly that it almost sounded like he was talking to himself. He was staring ahead, focused on nothing in particular.

“Almost,” said Arnold. “We need to get them to order more. This is a sales problem. A good salesperson can convince almost anyone to buy something they don’t really want. It’s all about helping them discover the hidden benefits so they come to see it as something they need. Lasagna is great as leftovers. Beans in the chili burger are filled with antioxidants. Mac and cheese is a great source of calcium and protein. Get creative out there. Jeff’s right, the fat drug is messing with people’s heads and so can we. It’s our moral obligation to help restore balance. A half-chicken dinner with garlic mashed potatoes and a slice of cherry pie is just what the doctor ordered.”

Steven found himself recalling the discussion he'd had with his mother when she passed along her secrets of sympathetic magic, she warned him, “You have been given a gift that is powerful enough to heal and dangerous enough to kill you. Be guided by wisdom and what is right.” Easier said than done, he remembered thinking. Morality was abstract, decisions were real. Every choice had to be weighed by its relation to a complex set of interrelationships. A thing that is gray in one light is purple in another.

Steven wasn’t sure that he accepted the premise that Ozempic posed an existential threat to Minnie’s, but he felt deeply that Minnie’s was an important part of the community. He also didn’t rule out the possibility that Ozempic was modifying people’s brains in ways they didn’t understand and that perhaps intervening could restore balance, as Arnold put it. Practitioners of magic were far more cautious when it came to people’s minds than drug companies. There was a final piece of the calculation; Steven needed a job to survive, and jobs were hard to come by these days.

Sympathetic transference was a dangerous game with risks to both source and target. But Steven had performed the Hunger Spell many times before and felt confident he could perform it in service to Minnie’s. He had a five day reserve of hunger that he could sacrifice and was prepared to use it.

“I get it, Arnold. I’ll do what I can out there,” said Steven.

***

The next day, as the lunch crowd was rolling into Minnie’s, Steven walked up to Table 5 and greeted two couples he recognized. Their sagging faces looked like they needed to be inflated.

“How are we doing today folks? Here’s some water for you all. Can I get you started with coffee or something else? We have some lovely homemade lemonade.”

“Water’s fine,” one of them said, and they all followed, “same”, “same”, “same”.

“Alright then, here’s some menus. I’ll be back in a few minutes to take your order”, he said.

On his way back to the kitchen, Steven grabbed one of the paper placemats from the stack at the server station and went into the staff bathroom. He set the placemat face down on the bathroom counter. He pulled an antique fountain pen from his pocket and drew a circle about the size of a coffee cup in the center of the placement. In the middle of the circle he drew a stick figure and wrote “Table 5” below it. Next, he drew 4 smaller stick figures, placed roughly where the 4 people were sitting around the table. Then, carefully controlling the pressure on the pen, he drew four connecting arrows pointing away from the large stick figure towards each of the small stick figures. He wadded up the piece of paper, took out his lighter and burned it until it was reduced to gray ash. He scraped the ash off the counter onto his hand, put it into his mouth, and swallowed it. Then he closed his eyes and said softly, “My hunger is your hunger. In this way we are one.”  As he finished the spell, he felt the familiar stabbing pain in his stomach and he doubled over, grabbing the counter. He took a few deep breaths and stood straight. He splashed cold water on his face, dried off, and walked out of the bathroom.

Steven returned to Table 5. “You folks ready to place your order?”

In near unison the four of them responded with an energic, “Yes!”

“I’d like a the three quarter pound cheeseburger with a large side of French fries,” said one, and added “oh, and a side salad with ranch.” “Philly cheesesteak with onion rings, and a Minnie’s milkshake,” said the second. “I’ll have your lasagna special with garlic bread and the antipasto salad,” said the third. “Chicken fried steak, with a loaded potato,” said the fourth.

"That sounds great folks, let me put that in for you.” As Steven walked away, he became lightheaded and steadied himself on a nearby a table. The first casting of the day was always the hardest.

Steven walked back to the kitchen and slid the ticket in for Jeff, who looked at the order in amazement. “What came over them? The last time they were in here it was soup and salad all the way around.”

“Hungry I guess,” said Steven.

“You okay Steven? You look a little pale?”

Yeah, I occasionally get dizzy spells. It’s genetic,” said Steven.

Table 5 ate the meals with unbridled enthusiasm. When they were finished, they ordered slices of pie and coffee all around.

The scene was repeated throughout the day. Steven greeted the customers, retreated to the bathroom to perform the Hunger Spell, then returned to their table where they proceeded to order a feast. After closing, Arnold rang up the day’s receipts to settle tips and called everyone to the staff room to make an announcement.

“Folks, I don’t know where to begin. Today was off the charts. Steven, I don’t know what you had for breakfast, buy you broke all records for same table totals.”

Steven was sitting in the chair in the back in usual spot. He was gaunt, with dark circles under his eyes. "Thanks, I just did you said, I sold the benefits."

“You okay Steven? You looked exhausted,” said Becky.

“Yeah, I uh, I kind of forgot to take lunch," said Steven.

“You want me to make you something to eat?” asked Jeff.

 “I’m good. I’m heading out to meet a friend and will grab a bite with him.”

***

Steven walked through the doors of the Fremont Hospital and signed into the volunteer register at the front desk.

“Good evening, nice to see you again Steven,” said the woman behind the counter.

“Hi Margaret.”

“You look tired, busy day at the diner?”

“Yeah, things got kind of crazy.”

“The kids always look forward to your visits Steven.”

Steven took the elevator up to the 3rd floor and exited into the lobby of the children’s cancer ward. He started with the Tommy. Tommy was 8-years old and had leukemia. Chemotherapy had ruined his appetite and the doctors were gravely concerned that he would not be able to withstand the treatment. Steven sat next to Tommy, who lay sleeping.

Steven reached into his knapsack and pulled out a folded leather pouch the size of a small book and untied the knot holding it closed. He unfolded it to reveal twenty individual vials neatly secured within the pouch. Each vial contained ashes and had label with a name written on it. He pulled out the one marked, “Tommy” and emptied the ashes into his mouth and swallowed. “My hunger is your hunger. In this way we are one.” He had ten more vials to empty before the night was through. Minnie’s was closed tomorrow, that was the day Steven visited the nursing home.