Hey Waiter! Pardon me, Waitress!

Order up for a newbie on table six!

Do you know which shift was the worst to work at this pizzeria? The ones where the sun was coming up! In other words, breakfast to lunch. It's just a bunch of moody people rushing to get food!

"Hurry up, lady. I need my morning coffee!"

"Hey, waitress! Pass me a bagel!"

"Yo, hurry up with that slice of pizza! I need to be back at work at 12!"

Like, for crying out loud, people! I'm not Usain Bolt! I'm not that fast; I may come from the Caribbean, but not all of us are as talented as that man!

Sighing, I handed Ramone another order through the window. On Wednesdays and Fridays, my shift changed from waitress to cashier so Brooke could go to her classes. And boy, was I savoring these six hours! Anything was better than twisting and turning your way through tables with a heavy platter and having to walk up and down the restaurant holding them! Not to mention less chances of slipping and publicly embarrassing myself!

"Here you are, ma'am!" I handed the lady her order. "Please come again soon!"

"Mhm...if my boss decides not to fire me for being late, I may spend my hard-earned money on this place!" she snapped before walking off, finishing the queue I had before me.

"Enjoy your day!" I called out to her before she stormed through the doors. Okay, maybe one of the perks of serving the dine-ins is getting to spit in their food when they piss you off, but with take-outs, it's just "smile and wave" sadly.

"God, I hate that woman!" I heard Ramone yell, pushing his head out from the window that connected the kitchen to the take-out booth. "She comes every goddamn day of the week to get lunch and a coffee and always complain about how late she is! Then she looks to blame it on the restaurant! Like, no, woman! Come to the pizzeria earlier and you may reach work in time!"

This made me laugh. I turned to see Ramone patting away the beads of sweat from his forehead with his old kitchen cloth that looked as though it had survived many kitchen fires.

"Some of the characters we see here are remarkable, Mia! If they knew how hot the kitchen was inside, they'd shut up and quit nagging me! But 'cause I'm black, I don't turn red when the place is hot! And those white people wanna walk around and call me a person of color!?"

I was going to reply to Ramone when Bob came waddling in.

"Top of the morning to you, Bob!" I said, turning away from the window where Ramone had scurried back to the stove, giving Bob my brightest smile.

"Don't say that! It sounds weird in your accent..." he said absentmindedly, biting his thumbnail as he stared at the door.

"Alright then," I said, ignoring his signs of anxiousness, "Aye Bob! Waiz d' scene? Things good by you?"

"English, Mia!" Bob snapped, still not turning to look at me.

"But I speaking English, it jus' broken daiz all!" 

"Well, fix it!"

I crossed my arms and bent down to look the stumpy man full in the face, "I don't think my accent is what you came to me about, right Bob?"

"No!" he said, glancing at me before looking back at the door. "Bridget just found out she's pregnant and took maternity leave and Candace says she's going on a vacation trip to Monte Carlo with her new boyfriend and she'll be back in two weeks."

I noticed Bob heading behind the potted plant to pull out a dusty sign board.

"Workers wanted!