Fred's Spotty Education

He jerks a thumb at me.

"Can you get me a better waiter? This guy doesn't know shit."

Emma nods. "I'm sorry about Fred, he's new." I look at her, dumbfounded. "What did you need?"

"Cheeseburger, well done, fries crispy, lettuce and onion, tossed salad for my wife. And where are my FUCKING mozz sticks?" he yells at me.

I'm still holding the basket and I place it in front of him. "Here you go, sir." I still can't believe Emma did that, and I know I heard 'medium well'. I check the ticket; that's what he said. I open my mouth to say something and snap it shut; I don't know if Emma will side with him or not. I scratch out 'medium well' written in right above where I'd scratched out 'medium rare' and write in 'well done'. "Is there anything else I can get for you?"

"Well, since you can't get an education, I guess my food would be nice," he says.

"Right away." I leave Emma at his booth and walk back to the kitchen. Sam is just taking the burger off the grill. "Sam, medium rare burger is well done."

Sam looks at me a moment, then slaps the patty back on the grill. "You got it."

Instead of going out to the bar, I walk into the storeroom where there are chairs we use on breaks. I sit and stare at the floor.

I hear the kitchen door open, and then Emma pokes her head into the storeroom. "Derf?"

"Leave me be, I'm new," I tell her, and she looks hurt. "I'm sorry, baby. I'm really frustrated with that guy."

She comes up and hugs me. "I know, Derf," she says. "We can't get along with everybody..."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, he seems like a nice enough guy, just mad about his order."

"He changes that order every time I talk to him! He's not mad about his order, he's mad about his wife checkin' me out."

"What?" Emma looks a bit skeptical. "I didn't notice anything like that, and I watch you a lot."

"And you didn't see her grab my ass? No, I guess you couldn't have." She had been wearing that long, concealing coat.

"If someone grabs your ass, Fred, just move away from them and ask them to stop," She says. "I've had guys grabbin' my ass since I started." She holds my head against her breast. "Poor Derf..."

I sigh. "Does this happen a lot?"

"Sometimes," she admits.

"I don't know if I can do this."

She pulls back and nods. "Fred, we all go through this." She opens her mouth to say something, then stops. "We ask ourselves whether we're that special kind of person," she concludes. "We get good people and assholes. He wasn't an asshole to me, but that's probably because he wants to jump my bones. If he thinks his wife is interested in you--"

"Thinks? He--"

Emma held up her hand. "Fred...you. Are doing. Fine. Don't let one customer fuck up your day! What about the next customer, who doesn't deserve a waiter or a bartender having a fucked-up day all over him?"

I know she's right, but I'm still a little angry at her for taking the guy's side. "My ticket's full of scratches from every time this fucker's changed his story, Em. And then you're sorry about me, I'm new?"

Emma sighs. "I apologize for that, baby. But he's a customer. He's right, even when he's wrong."

"Order up," Sam calls from the kitchen. I get up, dreading the next encounter with this piece of work.

I walk out to his booth and set down the food. "Cheeseburger, well done, crispy fries, lettuce and onion only, and a tossed salad with lowfat ranch."

His wife, I see, is just returning from the rest room, and she walks behind me to slip into the booth. Sure enough, I feel her hand again, this time on my crotch. I step away. "Please don't do that again," I tell her.

"Don't do what?" She stands in front of the booth and looks at me. I look back at her and she scoffs. "Get a real job, you fuckin' loser."

"These fries are cold, I ordered my burger medium fucking rare and this looks like a goddamn charcoal briquette! And where's my fucking mayo?"

I take a deep breath and my stomach fills with boiling, burny acid. I smile three feet wide even though I feel like dropping the plate in his lap. "I must be having a really bad day," I say. "Let me get that for you--"

"I wanted this dressing on the side, loser," the loving wife interrupts. "You must be a total fuckup if you can't even wait tables. Let's go, JJ."

She gives me an evil look as she gets out of the booth and there's the hand again, questing up the back of my leg. I step away from her before it can gain purchase on my ass again and JJ gets out of the booth with a nasty look toward me. "You're a total fucking idiot with hearing problems and memory problems. Hi," he tells Emma as she approaches once again; I know better than to expect support on this and I'm not surprised.

"I am so sorry about this, folks," she says.

"Just forget it. We're never coming in here again." I feel like cheering as they walk out the door.

"Fred, come here." She tweezes my shirt between her thumb and forefinger and leads me to the bar. "Sit."

I take a stool. She sets my soda water in front of me and pours in a shot of whiskey. "Drink," she orders, and I do.

"Customers come and sooner or later they go," she says.

"That guy was a pure asshole," one of the customers tells her. "I heard everything."

I give him a grateful smile, but Emma faces him. "You have your moments too, Louie," she says pointedly, and turns back to me.

"The toughest customer in the world won't be your problem forever, but they are until they leave. And we just do our best to make 'em happy. If we can't do that--" she shrugs. "They should be somewhere else where they can get what they need."

"The only place that guy can get what he needs is a mental hospital," I say bitterly. Emma laughs.

"Fred...you did great. Whether you know it or not." She turns from me to make her rounds and I stare into my whiskey and soda, shaken and confused.

The door opens behind me and I turn, not ready to wait another table just yet, but it's Jerry, the bar owner. My stomach boils again when I see he's got The Asshole Couple in tow.

"Fred, come here," Jerry orders in his crusty old voice. I walk over. "You served these people tonight?" I nod, and Jerry turns to the customers. "How'd he do?"

Here it comes.

"He did great," JJ told him. "I was such a fuckin' dick to him I thought for sure he was gonna punch me. Spilled a drink on him even. But he was awesome all the way."

My jaw drops. The woman speaks.

"I came on to him, felt him up twice, he never made a move. I called him a loser, told him to get a real job, the works. Nothing." She smiles at me. "I'm really sorry," she tells me, and offers a hand. I shake, numb.

"Me too, I really apologize," JJ tells me. "Especially about the drink. I never spilled one on someone before, and we do this every time Jerry hires someone in." I shake his hand as well, getting the picture.

"So you guys...came in here just to be the Evil Customers?"

"You bet your ass they did, I paid 'em to. This is my son Jerry Junior, and his wife Cindy. See, I believe that tendin' bar is a people job, drinks are just a little part of it. People can drink cheaper at home, they come here to be with people." We walk over to the bar and Emma plunks a Manhattan in front of Jerry. "So, I do a little test to make sure people I hire can handle the heat. I lose a lot of employees this way, but if they ain't people people I don't want 'em tendin' my bar."

I nod.

"See," JJ says, "Dad slides us a few bucks to be the absolute worst customers you'll ever have the unpleasant duty to serve. After JJ and Cindy, you know you can handle the worst customers in the industry. Ain't that right Jerry?" And I see he resembles his mother, Holly, and so does his wife Cindy.

I have to laugh. JJ and Cindy shake my hand and apologize again, then walk out.

"Congratulations, Fred," Emma tells me, and she looks proud. "You passed."

"So you knew?"

"Fred...that guy made me cry my first night here. He was so bad. And today he gave you twice what he gave me, and you held together just fine." She pauses. "I'm sorry I couldn't tell you, Jerry swears us to secrecy. I did see Cindy grab your ass," she says. "If it makes you feel better, JJ grabbed mine, too, and asked me to go home with him. I almost blew it."

Jerry laughs. "He didn't tell me he did that. I'm surprised you didn't clobber him!"

"Oh, I was tempted."

"You wouldn't be workin' here if you had. But anyway. Fred...I don't feel so bad you're puttin' your dick in my little Emma knowin' you're good with customers. You knock her up, you're gonna tend bar..."

"Even if they were all like JJ and Cindy, it'd be worth it," I tell him. Emma stares.

"Are you saying you WANT to get me pregnant?"

"Are you saying it's not gonna happen sooner or later?" I ask her. She grins.

"Whaddaya mean?" Jerry looks from me to Emma and back.

"I'm marrying her," I tell him.

"He asked last Friday, I said yes." Emma showed him the diamond solitaire on her left hand--my mother's engagement ring.

"You didn't say yes, exactly."

"I meant yes."

"Well, why the hell didn't you tell me?" Jerry asks. "Next round on the house!" He yells, and the customers cheer. Emma closes her eyes and sighs; she turns around and starts tending bar. For the next few minutes she's gonna be real busy.

Jerry leans in close. "You guys aren't wastin' any time. You sure you know what you're doin'?"

"I love that girl," I tell him. "I love her more than anything. I'm sure."

He smiles and claps a hand on my shoulder. "You're a good man, Fred. I'm glad I don't have to worry about her no more."