The Dishwasher
(or C R gets job offer)
Monday
Arriving back at the hotel after work Monday, I parked the car and immediately walked several blocks over to the Cheesecake Factory looking for an early dinner (supper back in Louisiana). I didn't even change 
clothes from work because usually the wait is from 30 to 50 minutes. Sometimes, you can slip past the long line, make your way back to the back bar and order from a stool if you don't mind eating at a bar.
Running a gauntlet of waiters and patrons I approached the bar and saw absolutely no one sitting there nor was there a bartender. It had not entered my mind that since this was Monday, the bar was closed but just as I was about to turn back, a guy rounded the bar coming from the kitchen about 4 or 5 steps in front of a tightly grouped gaggle of subordinates.
Let's stop here and set this up. The mannerisms of this guy was almost a comic version of the "Jack MacFarland" character on the Will & Grace sitcom and the way his followers waddled after him made him look as if he was really the head duck there. When he stopped, his posse, still in formation, nearly tripped over each other.
Before I could turn and dismiss myself, Mr Duck was right in my face (not hostile). With a small stack of papers in his hand, he pointed and shook them at me in time with a staccato voice saying, "I_can_use_you_right_now_I_need_a_dishwasher_just_fill_out_ these_papers_and_get_to_work!
Halfway apologetically, I said, "Nope, I was just hoping to order dinner from the bar."
Mr Duck, without missing a beat, pulled back his paper to his shoulder, arched his wrist then lightly snapped it at me as if there were an imaginary insect between us and said, "nnnnnnnnnnnnn....No!"
"Adios", I said. as I turned and went the opposite direction. His entourage let out a couple of muffled giggles, whether at him or me, it's anyone's guess. I suppose I'll never know how that job offer would have turned out.
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Dinner At Denny's
Tuesday
Sitting in Denny's on Kuhio Street, Honolulu, I scanned the menu trying to find something to eat 
that didn't have a bun wrapped around it. I had decided on the Grilled Seagull...er.. Chicken Salad and was patiently waiting for the waiter to get to me to take my order.
There was an older gentleman, probably in his late 70s, seated near me and was having a difficult time communicating with what was probably an eastern European waiter.
Let's call the waiter Ivan and the older patron, Walter.
Ivan: "Vhat vould jew like fah dinnah, sir?"
Walter (loudly): "What do you get with this?", pointing at a picture on the menu.
Ivan: "Dat comes vith two side otters."
Walter(loudly): I don't know what this is!"
Ivan: "Dat is a chicken fried steak, sir. Vhat vould you like fah your side otters?"
Walter(loudly): "Medium well!"
Ivan: "Vell sir, it comes vell done."
Walter (loudly): "No, I want it medium well!"
Ivan (getting a bit loud himself): "No sir, it hast to be vell done because is a hamburger steak, battered and deep fried and you need to choose two side otters!!"
Walter (loudly): "It says "STEAK"....and what is a "side otter"?"
Ivan (louder): "It's a deep fried hamburger and it comes vith mixed vegetables, mashed potatoes, cole slaw or french fries dat you choose two of!".
By now the commotion has attracted the attention of management and they shuffle poor Ivan off to probably the potato peeling machine.
The manager trainee asks Walter, "What would you like sir?" Walter points to the chicken fried steak and says, "medium well". The manager trainee says, "Yessir, that comes with mashed potatoes and mixed vegetables", nods affirmatively and takes off.
Walter sits there, shaking his head and mumbling to himself, "How can it be a steak if it's a hamburger?"
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