Your Serve

By Tom Brennan

When I got my first set of prosthetic eyes, I was in my early twenties. They were as much a new experience for me as for those around me, and I delighted in playing games with them (both the eyes and the people). Sometimes people tended to take my fun a little more seriously than I did. I didn't mind this much, especially if they were giving me a hard time, giving me an opportunity to think up a prank.

At the time of this story, I lived in a rural town. There were a few fast food joints in town and one of them was a Burger Chef. That place made decent burgers and did so for a price that a college student like me could afford. Another definite advantage was that they were easily within walking distance of the campus.

Still another really important advantage was that they opened before the other burger places in town in the morning so any red-blooded college student could drop in for a breakfast burger, and have it their way.

One morning, my friend Ira and I were hungry and decided to drop by "The Chef" before class. This was during the summer so we really needed to get a good, hardy breakfast eaten before the temperature rose above 90 degrees, which it usually did by, or shortly after, noon.

We walked to our destination talking of college sorts of things and paid little attention to the pickup truck parked out front. Many people in town drove pickups because of all the farming and dairy businesses in the area. We just went on in the front door intending to order. Since I was using Ira as my sighted-guide, I hadn't brought my cane.

When you walked in the front door, you were immediately in the restaurant. The counter was directly to the right, and along a third of the length of the store and the left side was taken up with booths and tables. We walked to the counter and patiently stood at the cash register waiting for our orders to be taken. We were both very hungry!

The girl behind the register was flirting with a couple guys sitting in one of the booths. These guys were what Jeff Foxworthy would call "obvious rednecks". For that matter, so was the girl. She was paying no more attention to the rest of the world than the napkin holders on the tables were to how fresh the bread was in the nearby corner grocery store. The manager was cleaning a grill further down behind the counter and said, "Are you going to wait on these people or am I going to have to give them what they want and charge it to you?"

Personally, I'd have gone for the latter at that time. But subsequent events made it far better that we didn't get that free meal.

The girl glanced at us and said, "Be with you when I finish with these gentlemen." "Ok," I thought. Let's just let her take her time and I'll see what I can dream up. I poked Ira with an elbow to let him know to keep his mouth shut. We had been best friends for several years so I knew that he would know what I meant.

Eventually the girl came over to take our order. The manager had obviously been getting impatient and had been working his way up toward the counter as he cleaned. He was making very obvious "I'm coming your way" noises as he did.

We gave her our orders. I got the biggest burger they had with everything you could get on it, the largest coke they had, and a couple large orders of fries. She turned and gave the order to the manager who was serving as cook. (In a later conversation he told us that the cook hadn't shown up that morning so he was filling in.)

When the girl started to turn back to the register to ring up our order, one of those redneck guys started flirting with her again. Ok, enough was enough. I wanted revenge and I was hungry! She eventually took my money and I waited calmly (if a little "sleepily") for my change.

Again, one of those guys started talking to her but this time it worked to my advantage. She only told him to "wait a minute" but in that time I put my hand up and rubbed my face as though I was sleepy. As I rubbed my eye, I pressed down on the edge of the bottom lid with my thumb. That's usually all it takes to get a prosthetic eye out and this one dropped sweetly in to my cupped hand.

When I held my hand out for the change, there sat my eye looking up at her. With no hesitation at all, she screamed and dropped my change. In point of fact, she also wet her pants -- there is no mistaking that smell. She turned and fled out the back door still wearing her presumably now soggy Burger Chef uniform.

Meanwhile, the manager had seen what I had done. He was laughing so hard he couldn't talk. The redneck guys were wondering what was going on so the manager picked up my hand and showed it to them. As the girl was exiting the back door, those guys started laughing like they'd just seen the funniest thing in the world.

Through all this, Ira stood quietly by chuckling. He knew me, and my sense of humor, and wasn't particularly surprised by what I had done. He later told me that he didn't know what I was going to do but he knew I was hungry and that I'd get my food one way or another.

The manager picked up my change and gave it to me. In fact, he gave me all my money back. He said, "that was worth a free meal for both of you! I've been trying for a week to get her to pay attention and was thinking of letting her go!"

A few days later I was back in "The Chef" for another meal. The manager was there and I asked him about the girl. He said, "She never came back. She has a paycheck waiting and still has our uniform, but I suspect I'll never see her again. Those guys come in every morning hoping they'll see you back in so they can buy you breakfast."

I did come in and got separate meals from both those guys. They turned out to be pretty okay and I still see one of them once in awhile. They're both truck drivers now. As far as I know the girl never came back to Burger Chef and I sometimes wonder where she went. Wherever she is, I bet she hasn't messed with any more hungry blind people.

Tom Brennan, CCC-A/SLP, RHD
Web page: http://titan.sfasu.edu/~g_brennantg/sonicpage.html
Web master http://titan.sfasu.edu/~f_freemanfj/speechscience.html
Web master http://titan.sfasu.edu/~f_freemanfj/fluency.html