NervousMan and the Mean Waiter (Part 2)

NervousMan came out of his reverie and was startled to look up and see the scowling face of the mean waiter standing over him.

The waiter put down the bill for the sandwich. "Pay here not up there" the waiter said, pointing at the cash register with an imperious finger and frowning. And then he walked away.

NervousMan took out his wallet and fished his debit card out of it, fingers shaking.

Maybe the waiter thought that NervousMan was going to walk out of the restaurant without paying and he wanted to keep an eye on NervousMan. Maybe NervousMan looked suspicious because he was so nervous. NervousMan worried about seeming suspicious all the time.

NervousMan looked at the bill. $9.98. He put the debit card onto the table and waited.

NervousMan thought that he should see his Chinese step-dad to get more money. NervousMan had thought about getting a job. His mother's inheritance had seen him through thus far, but in a few months, he would start to run out of money. He wouldn't be able to afford such luxuries as buying a sandwich at a nice restaurant like this one.

NervousMan looked around the restaurant. It was called The 59 Club. There were all sorts of representations of the number 59 on the wall. He looked up and saw what looked to be a roadsign that was for 'Route 59' that had neon around it the color of hot pink. This was the logo for the place. Instead of the word 'Route' it had the word 'Club'.

After a while the waiter came back and took NervousMan's credit card up to the register. In the booth next to NervousMan many teenagers piled in and talked in a nervous manner amongst themselves.

NervousMan wanted to leave the restaurant at this point. His nerves started to act up. NervousMan's nerves always made him nervous. NervousMan could feel his anti-perspirant start to fail. He thought he would like to get up and go to the bathroom, and get the ranch dressing out of his shirt, but the mean waiter was going to come back with his debit card at any moment.

The teenagers laughed and twittered next to NervousMan. Every few seconds they seemed to bark out sharply with more laughter at jokes that NervousMan couldn't understand. They seemed to be talking in English and yet NervousMan couldn't understand anything they were saying. He thought he could make out someone saying the name 'Derek'.

NervousMan looked across the floor of the restaurant, over to where the mean waiter was standing behind the cash register. He seemed to be talking to the man in the dark pinstripe suit. Were they looking at NervousMan's debit card? NervousMan didn't know.

NervousMan felt nervous.

(to be continued)