The Other Pam :: Applebee’s :: August 2004
The pins were starting to drive me crazy.
I mean, there were so many of them.
All boasting specials and begging the expression: “Ask me about this!” No one ever asked me, and I thought they were the lamest things ever. And totally ineffective.
Nonetheless, as I entered work that day, I was greeted with a hello and another button to add to the collection. This one about “Razzmatazz Ribs, Only $13.99!” I put it under the Weight Watchers one and couldn’t remember when I could actually see that part of my shirt.
“Hey, Brenda, Lisa,” I said almost robotically. They were practically one person, they were so close. I saw them them, standing behind the counter, pricing bills.
“Hey, Pam,” they replied without looking up. Kind of as one voice, and they finished each other’s sentences all the time. I always thought it would be weird to work somewhere with your twin. Or have a twin, for that matter.
People got confused with them basically every time they got a new table-- but they never cared. They always did tasks for each other, brought extra stuff here and there, and split their tips at the end of the day.
Equal amounts of work, equal amounts of tips-- kind of a foreign concept to me. I was happy when I went home with seventy bucks, let alone the multiple one-hundred and thirty dollar nights they’d been known to score.
I went and set up my station for the night. I kept jumping around and forgetting things and steps and a bunch of little tasks that I usually did without a second thought. My mind was on a fast track to somewhere else, and I didn’t know if I could save it.
Another discarded drink next to the soda machine, waiting to be filled.
One more order that had been sitting for ten minutes while I stocked a bunch of unnecessary plastic silverware from the supply closet.
Forgotten salad dressing, no tax added on the bill, unhappiness on a bunch of faces that I would probably never see again.
That was the only good part.
And things were only getting worse for me on my off night. A guy sat down at one of my dirty tables. If there was one thing I hated more than anything-- it was this.
But, even from far away, I could tell this one was going to be okay. He had started stacking the dishes and silverware for me to pick up.
“Hey,” I said, stepping in front of him for the plates. “Sorry about this, I just --” Dropped a fork. “Am not having a good night.”
He brushed off some crumbs and threw them on the plate. And he picked up my fork. “Sorry to hear that. It’s fine. I shouldn’t have sat here, I just don’t like to sit at tables.”
I paused, knitting my eyebrows. None of this really clicked.
“Table-phobic?” I was so confused by this. “Doesn’t look like it’s working out for you very well.”
“I mean, that is, I prefer to sit at booths.”
God, what an idiot I was. I don’t know if my night could have been more off.
“Oh. Right. Well score one dumb blonde point for me,” I said, unsure if I could sound more stupid. I was a full-on jet-black brunette.
He smiled and offered up, “Razzmatazz Ribs, huh?”
I didn’t know how I could respond to that. This guy was good.
“Let’s start over,” I said quickly. “Hi, my name is Pam and I will be your server tonight.”
His smile faded instantly and he buried his face behind his menu.
Now he thought I was a jerk.
“Okay, I will tell you about the ribs--”
“No, it’s not that,” he said quietly. Then, louder, “Did you say your name was Pam?”
“Yep, born and raised Pamela.” Can you say cheeseball?
“This might sound like an odd request,” he said evenly.
“Shoot. I’ve heard more than you think.”
“Okay, um. You think maybe that you could not go by Pam? Just for the, like, half hour I am here?”
“What, are you Pam-phobic, too?” I thought he’d laugh, just because I was so corny and making fun of myself, but I could see that he was serious.
“Um, okay. Hi, I’m Pa--” This was so weird, I had to stop myself. “I’m Katy, and I will be your server tonight.”
He stopped me from asking what he’d like to drink and gestured to all my buttons. “On second thought, I am kind of in the mood for ribs. Pam. Enlighten me.”
What this was, I didn’t know.
Probably just another story to add to the list of crazy waitressing anecdotes I stored in a far off corner of my memory.
Because this one, I couldn’t even explain. Brenda and Lisa asked me what the deal was with this guy and I actually got sort of defensive and said he was having a bad night.
r32;Because this one sort of stuck out.
This guy, as he picked at his grilled cheese sandwich and fries, never looked anywhere but right in front of him. The other side of the booth I had cleaned off and set up under the impression he was waiting for someone else.
That was the place someone else was supposed to be sitting.
I wasn’t sure if that was Katy or Pam.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Jim being sad :(
Chapter End Notes:
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