“Our profession is honorable,” said my friend Toad.
“At the service of the people. Sacrifice yourself for the happiness of others,” I replied.
“I’m proud to be a part of it,” Ted says, stoking the bonfire with a stick.
“We persevere, through good times and bad,” says Stugmann
We toast our cans of beer.
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Toddy said. “You are waiters in a restaurant, not brain surgeons.”
“Still,” said Toad.
Toddy, a waitress, is right. We all just finished our first year of college and are working at a resort for the summer. Highlights are the nightly bonfires on the Lake Michigan beach before heading to the employee dormitory.
The work is hard. We keep the dining room elegant while we carry dirty dishes, pitchers of water, bottles of ketchup and butter to the people who pay to have a good time, and, by gum, if they don’t stop by a good time, they let us know. he.
“Boy! Boy! Take that dirty plate off. I’m done.”
“Yes ma’am!” I say with a smile that I don’t feel.
I take her plate and while I’m there, I grab the plate with only a piece of cartilage in front of the woman sitting next to her.
“I’m not finished!” she squeals and stabs the back of my hand with a fork, before stabbing the cartilage with the same fork and putting it in her mouth.
Such is the life of a servant boy.
Day after day, Toad and I struggle to do our jobs, wearing sweaty, stain-resistant white shirts and clip-on black ties. Ted and Stugmann stand behind the service counter. Ted chews ice cubes and Stugmann pretends to fold napkins. They’re both nice guys who think work ethic is something you can study in a sociology class.
As the summer progresses, friendships develop, cemented by late-night beach parties and dorm life. The manager of the complex strives to maintain control over the 20 college students living in the dormitory, but his authority is somewhat tarnished as he has an affair with one of the waitresses.
“I heard that you…