He was the first customer of the day, and seemed rather cheerful. Most people I know would find that annoying, however I’m pretty energetic in the morning, therefore I appreciated his energy.
It was about 7:20 when he came in, and he sat at the counter with a smile as a response to my, “Good morning! How are you?”
As I dropped off his coffee and water, he started explaining to me how he’s not from the area and he’d been driving past the restaurant for the past two days and decided he’d stop in because he loves mom and pops’ shops.
Right off the bat, I knew he’d be one of those customers whose stories I needed to put to paper. He was older, about mid-fifties. Glasses, slim, and stood about six foot tall.
Before I even hung up his ticket to place his order, I learned that his son had just moved in down the street, and was a fresh college grad. He landed a job at GM, which according to his dad, “he’s had since before he finished school.”
He ordered your standard American breakfast, two eggs over easy, bacon, hash browns, and white toast.
I started asking questions, which for me isn’t anything unusual. I asked him about where he was from, where his son went to school, what his impressions of Waterford were.
He was from northwest Indiana about 30-40 miles out of Chicago. His son graduated from Purdue, and so far he liked Waterford. He mentioned that his son rented a house out in Clawson for the past couple months, and he found the community there cute and close knit.
However the commute was too much for his son, and he wanted to work toward owning a house. Or at least, that’s what I think he said…
We continued to talk as he ate, which I was 100 percent content with especially since that meant I didn’t have to clean.
I talked up the coney A LOT. I told him about how all of our regulars are like family. It was the typical speech I give to people when they tell me they’re first-timers. I start with all the service guys we have on hand, one in particular because he plows our parking lot, mows the grass and even weedwacks in the summer.
From there I moved on to say that I got my most recent dog from a regular, which I will be forever grateful for.
The guy seemed amazed by what I had to say about what he called the “little hole in the wall of Waterford.” I was happy that he had such a positive response to a place that’s been almost like a second home to me for the past two years.
When our conversation died down, the guy shouted across the counter to the back window, “Hey man, great food! Seriously this is really good!”
“Hey thanks, no problem man I’m glad you liked it!” Donnie, one of our regular cooks responded with a smile and a wave of his hand.
He then asked, “Hey, so what are your names?”
“I’m Bridget,” I said while folding both of my hands in towards my chest, “and that’s Donnie back there,” I said as I pointed behind me.
“Well it was very nice to meet you two, I’m really happy I made a U-turn and came in here instead of going to McDonalds.”
“Aw, well thank you! I’m happy you came in too, it’s been really nice talking to you. And what’s your name?” I replied.
“Oh yeah,” he chuckled. “I’m Brian!”
From there, we talked about how I go to the high school down the street, and I plan on going to Chicago for college next year.
He told me he was a UPS driver, and worked early mornings that led to late nights since most of his drives revolved around the Chi-Town area. Yet another bonus. An energetic customer before 8 o’clock, and one who’s familiar with Chicago, I wasn’t complaining the slightest even if my stomach was rumbling a tad.
Somehow we got talking about unions, and the lack of interest in the trades field nowadays. We talked about how it seems like everyone needs to go drown themselves in debt in order to make it somewhere in life.
We talked about the pressure kids face when choosing a college, and how unfortunate that trades jobs aren’t as reliable as they once were.
Before he left, I gave him a coffee to take with him, and I joked that if his son came in without him, I’d give him a rough time.
I told him I’d say, “Hey, I know of this guys dad that just came in. I think they grew up in Northwest Indiana? About 40 minutes from Chicago I believe. Oh! And his son graduated from Purdue and now has a job at GM?”
Brian died at the thought of this, not literally of course but instead rather hysterically.
Before he left, he looked at me and said, “You know, you can really tell your parents did a nice job raising you, you’re a very kind girl.”
That’s easily the nicest thing I think any ‘stranger’ has ever said to me. And it made my heart really warm and fuzzy inside, which is the reason why I’ll never stop writing stories like these.
