‘Old fool’

TWISTED SHORTS

‘Old fool’ by Dean O. Arutoghor ©

After what seemed like an eternity of mindless dithering, the dapperly dressed old man finally settled for the small wooden table closest to the pavement at the near-empty restaurant.

With his knees not quite what they used to be back in his clubbing days, Andrew delicately lowered his backside onto the cushioned chair, closed his eyes and inhaled a lung-full of what he obviously deemed fresh air on the High Street with its slow-moving traffic.

Poor guy was on his exhale when some pesky waitress popped up by his side to screw up his little ‘me time’ routine. Smiling like she had been trained to do at waiter school, she slightly curtsied as she placed the bill on his table. Her smile was sweet...and almost convincing. In his younger days too long to specifically date, he would have fallen in love there and then. Wait…a bill? For what?

Andrew looked up at the waitress quizzically. She looked down at him with that patronising look young people relish giving confused old folks.

‘I don’t understand,’ Andrew finally said when the kid wouldn’t push off.

‘It’s the bill,’ she said helpfully.

‘I can see that!’ He hoped he didn’t sound too sarcastic but not too far off either.

‘For your meal?’

‘What meal?’

‘That you just had, Sir.’ She was still smiling at this point.

‘Just had?’ That made Andrew chuckle. ‘What are you talking about? I have just arrived, young lady.’

She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at him. ‘Um…You asked me to bring the bill because you were ready to go…’

‘…But I just got here!’ Andrew protested.

The young lady looked around as if in search of the hidden cameras. Just in case this was not for some YouTube prank, she slowly read out what she claimed Andrew had had in the past hour before asking for the bill and then excusing himself to go to the gents. It came up to about fifteen pounds.

‘Who the hell spends that much on a hot drink and sandwich?’ he muttered to himself before saying out loud:

‘This is ridiculous. There must be some mistake. You must be mistaking me for someone else. I just got here, for fuck’s sake.’ As soon as he spat out that word he clasped a hand over his mouth. ‘Look what you made me do. Mother said a gentleman never swears in public,’ he muffled through his fingers.

Again but slower this time, the waitress read aloud the six items on the bill Andrew was supposed to have devoured. As she did, Andrew talked over her, insisting that she has the wrong customer.

‘As you can see, you are the only customer around, Sir. You have been the only customer here for the past twenty minutes’ she finally said with more than a hint of irritation.

‘Yes, with that kind of attitude, I can’t say I am surprised,’ Andrew shot back.

‘Not today. Not fucking today. I don’t need this,’ she muttered to herself.

‘What was that?’ Andrew queried, leaning forward.

‘Never mind. I will get the manager, Sir,’ she said before flouncing off, any pretence of professionalism out the window.

Two minutes later, a young looking manager who could easily have passed for a sixth former emerged from a back office with the sulking waitress in tow. ‘Where are all the adults?’ Andrew thought to himself.

He was calling Andrew ‘Sir’ but at the same time crouching down to talk to him like you would a naughty child.

With an even more insincere smile, the manager held up the receipt. ‘There seems to be some mistake Sir…’

‘Yes. On your side,’ Andrew said firmly.

Holding his smile, the manger continued. ‘I saw my waitress take your order and serve you afterwards Sir. You arrived about twenty minutes ago…’

‘I just sat down a few minutes ago. Are you people trying to fleece me or something? You’ve got some kind of scam going here? Is that what this is?’

‘You are wrong, Sir. I can play back the CCTV recording but is that really necessary? We don’t need to escalate this, Sir.’

‘And I am telling you that you are the one that is wrong…Sir. I just came out for a quiet drink with my dog and to watch the world go by. You lot are ruining that for me.’ Almost like an afterthought, he banged a fist on the table, making himself jump in the process. Who knows, these two were probably used to bullying forgetful old folks who ventured into their restaurant into paying for a meal they had not had but Andrew was no push over. His memory was still as sharp as ever. Apart from what he had for breakfast that morning, where he lives and who his wife ran off with three months ago, his memory was still as sharp as ever.

The manager looked around for Andrew’s dog. Yup. Just like he thought. He sighed and rose slowly to his feet.

‘Ok. You know what? Forget the bill. It’s on the house.’

The waitress’s jaw dropped. She tried to say something but the manager waved her away.

‘On the house? For the hundredth time, I have not ordered anything yet.’

‘We can’t serve you today…’

‘…But why?’

‘We have to close the restaurant for some eh…staff training.’

‘But…’

‘Sorry Sir but I will have to ask you to leave. We really need to get on with our staff training. Thanks.’

Disappointed but at the same time glad to be leaving the crappy restaurant, retired old boy slowly rose to his feet, just to prove that he won't be rushed by some pip squeak.

As the manager watched Andrew shuffle off his premises, he couldn't help himself: ‘Perhaps it would be best if you had lunch somewhere else in the future as we are clearly not to your standard. Have a nice day, Sir.’ That fell on deaf ears. Literally. Andrew had already turned off his hearing aid.

Next day, different restaurant, same high street. As he checked out his reflection in the mirror sitting just above the sink in the gents, Andrew ruffled his hair and undid the top two buttons on his shirt. ‘Ok, Andrew, here goes nothing.’ He looked himself up and down one last time before ambling out of the gents. As he exited, he muttered under his breath again and again: ‘What are you talking about? I have just arrived…What are you talking about? I have just arrived…What…’

The End