Half Empty

Brian was 47 years old with 3 kids, a wife, a blonde wig he wore, but never maintained and a few surfboards in the back of his brown Volvo. He worked as a busboy at a restaurant down the street from his childhood home, the home that his father still allowed Brian and his family to live in. Brian knew everything there was to know about the restaurant. He knew how many times the carpet had been changed and how many people had been caught making love out on the patio and how many waiters with different names, but similar traits had come and gone. He was the first introduction and the last goodbye to thousands of other employees throughout the years, he made this a point. Brian was a cordial fellow and he figured if he had nothing else in this world, he might as well have a good attitude and a firm hand shake, and he did, Brian had a formal, yet humanly handshake and it was rare to see him with anything other than a smile on his face. Brian worked alone on most nights, but during his Saturday shift he had to work with the three other bussers, Lupe, Carlos and the little one they called Muerte. Brian felt a connection to these men because they shared the same profession, but beyond that he didn't care for them much. He always felt as if he was the butt of their jokes, which he was, but he wished they wouldn't make it so obvious. Brian often laughed at them too, but only to himself. He found it funny that Lupe had 12 kids and was raising all of them to be soccer players. Brian wasn't trying to be racist when he told the general manager about Lupe's soccer team, but he got written up for it anyways. He also found it funny that Carlos was the father of the dishwasher, the brother of a chef and a cousin to the bar back. Brian wasn't trying to be racist when he said, "aren't all you guys related?” but the staff complained about it anyways. He also found the name Muerte to be funny. They called him Muerte because he liked to party hard after work and when he'd show up the next day his eyes would be sunken in and black. He really did look like the walking dead to Brian and so he'd call him Muerte with a grin. It was an undisputable fact that Muerte looked dead, so there wasn't much for Brian to be written up for on this matter.

Bussers constantly came and went, but Brian always stayed. Brian was in charge of training the new bussers and he took great pride in doing so. He'd ask them their name once, and never forget it. He'd also ask them for their birth dates, and he'd never forget that either. It was a gift Brian had; he could remember the names and birthdates of everyone he had ever asked. Whenever a new busser was hired, Brian would have them shadow him for the first night. Brian wasn't a particularly good busser, he took too long to clear tables and often dropped entire trays of dirty dishes and wine glasses. He was the most dedicated though, and he actually cared about his craft. To him, his job was just as impressive at the head chef who prepared some of the most renowned food in the world. Brian changed the linens, polished the silverware, unclogged the toilets and hosed down the kitchen mats all with a smile on his face. At the end of the night, when the other bussers would hoard the tips the stingy waiters woefully handed over, Brian would put everything he'd collected on the table for everyone to divide evenly. This made Brian feel good, like he was part of a team, even though the team members were constantly working against him.

If you haven't caught on by now, Brian wasn't the brightest fellow. Others knew this and liked to take advantage of it. Brian was the scapegoat of the restaurant. If a waiter was too lazy to do their side-work before going home, it'd get pawned off on Brian, everyone knew he was too nice or too stupid to say no, so they used every last drop of him. If a table was improperly set up, it must have been Brian’s fault because the rest of the bussers pretended not to speak English when confronted. If a guest complained about a funny smell in the restaurant, Brian would be asked to stay off the floor until the table left. Brian was aware of his position as a scapegoat, and he didn't entirely hate it. In his mind he felt that people passed off responsibility to him because they felt he was the best man for the job. There was rarely a time that Brian didn't graciously accept others trash and turn it into something lemon scented and enjoyable. In the entire 23 years that Brian had bussed tables at the restaurant, there was only one time he completely broke down and lost it. It's a pretty impressive figure when you consider the amount of times prima donna waitresses break down in just one shift. Brian’s breakdown came on Christmas Eve in 1996. Every year since Brian had kids, around when he was 24, he had requested Christmas Eve off so he could bring his family in for dinner and use his 50% employee discount. Brian would dress up in his best outfit. He wore a pair of navy blue chords and a white polo shirt, tucked in, with a braided belt and his work shoes with a fresh shine. He also took the time to comb his wig out on Christmas Eve so it'd lay a little flatter on his scalp. Brian was poor man, he had a poor family too, but on Christmas Eve he felt like a king. So three days before Christmas Eve in 1996 a new busser named Shay starts work. Brian trains him, and Shay picks up the routine pretty quickly. Brian is reminded of himself a bit when he looks at Shay, and for this he gave him a bit of special treatment. Trainees weren't supposed to get a cut of the tips for their first two shifts, but Brian didn't see this as fair since Shay did such a good job. It had been a really busy Saturday night. The restaurant was swamped for 4 hours straight and everyone on the staff was in the weeds the entire time. Shay really stepped up and helped turn around tables to keep things running smooth. At the end of the night, the bussers had collected well over $500. Split between Lupe, Carlos, Muerte and Brian, they'd each be going home with over a hundred in cash for around 6 hours of work. They divided up the money, and Shay watched from across the lounge. Brian saw how exhausted Shay was and after getting his share, walked over and gave him a third of what he had made. Lupe saw this and began saying something to Carlos and Muerte, but before finishing decided to just say it out loud, "Hey man, you stealing our money?" It wasn't clear to Brian what Lupe meant, so he smiled and left for the night. The next day, two days before Christmas Eve, Brian came into work. He clocked in, tied his apron around his waste and was stopped before walking out onto the floor. Nick, the new GM, had been approached by Lupe, Carlos and Muerte last night, called Brian into his office concerned to address the concerns. Brian explained to Nick that he simply divided his portion and gave a third to Shay for a job well done. Nick wasn't buying it though. As a new GM he felt he had something to prove, and as people with something to prove so often do, ended up picking the completely wrong time, place and person to prove it with. "Ya know Brian, I've been looking through your file, and it seems like you have quite a few write-ups for some racially inappropriate comments you've made towards the other bussers. Is this all just a coincidence? No, don't answer, that was rhetorical. Seems to me you have a bit of a chip on your shoulder Brian, is that why you withheld the money from them? Ya know Brian, it's the holidays, and these guys want to buy their families dinner just like you do. Doesn't seem fair to me that you'll be able to afford to do that now, and they won't. Just doesn't seem right Brian, now does it?" Brian was speechless. He had been accused of many things while working as a busboy, but he had never been accused of lying, cheating or stealing from the restaurant, the place he loved only slightly less than his family. Brian left the office with nothing more than a warning, but his stomach burned for the rest of his shift.

It was Christmas Eve. Brian was dressed in his chords and polo shit, his daughters wore their faded black dresses and his wife wore purple dress pants and a festive sweater that had been eaten by moths around the elbows. When he walked into the restaurant all the wanna-be actors gave him their best "Lookin' good" face and would shoot him winks and smiles. He'd respond with points. He point to Vance and Brent and Tasha and Becky and he even pointed at one of the guests by mistake, but it was his night, he called the shots. Brian always requested the worst table on the floor when he came in. He knew he couldn't afford to tip big so he let the real big spenders have their nice tables by the windows and away from the restrooms, while he settled for what was tucked away in the back. Brian and his family lived it up on Christmas Eve. This year Brian and his wife Cindy both ordered glasses of wine, their daughters got appetizers and virgin daiquiris and they all splurged on the chocolate soufflé. They ordered two, one for each side of the table. The family was stuffed; they couldn't have eaten more even if they tried. Brian felt like a real man. He knew the stigma attached to his position as a 47 year old busser, but on this night, he felt like a provider, like a breadwinner, like a father who other daughters would look to and wish to have. Brian leaned back in his chair, separating his swollen belly from the edge of the table and noticed Nick the new GM walking his way. Brian gave him a point and friendly smile saying hello and also signifying he was ready for the bill and the discount. The discount was the only reason Brian came here on Christmas Eve. It was a sad reality, but on any other day, he wouldn't be able to afford dinner at the restaurant he'd worked at for 23 years. He wasn't concerned with that now though. He'd pay the bill and leave a 15% tip for Emily the waitress and be off to enjoy the rest of the evening with his family before having to work the brunch shift on Christmas morning. Nick walked over and patted Brian on the back. He introduced himself to Cindy and complimented the daughters on how beautiful they were. He ensured the family that Brian was one of the best employees they had, and was sure he worked just as hard at being a good father. He dropped the bill, smiled and walked away. Brian enjoyed a few more sips of his wine. He swished it around in his mouth as he saw the wealthy people do and commented on how well it paired with the soufflé. He talked in a really snooty voice and this made his daughters chuckle. He put on his reading glasses and asked for Cindy to hand him the bill. Brian opened up the checkbook and saw the bill. He went over the items, one by one and examined how much each of them cost, and then kept dividing by 2, because he'd only be paying half. He got to the bottom and the total after tax was $367.50, nearly a hundred dollars per person. He paused, to thank his job for providing such a gracious employee discount and then continued to the section where he expected to see the adjusted total. It wasn't there though. There was only one total on the bill, and it hadn't been discounted. Brian felt that maybe Nick had just forgotten, so after ten minutes of trying to get Nicks attention, he finally came over to the worst table in the house. Brian explained the situation, thinking that maybe since Nick was new, he didn't know about the employee discount, but after he was finished speaking, Nick only stared at Brian. He just stood their staring, his eyes squinted and his mouth resting open as if he wanted to say something, but he just stood and stared and made Brian feel a bit uneasy, a bit vulnerable. Nick took a step backwards, and then one forwards towards the table and said, "Ya know Brian, buddy, ya know I just didn't feel it was right for Lupe and Carlos and Muerte to be the only ones hurting this Christmas, I wanted to make sure you felt what it was like to barely scrape by Brian. I mean, ya know, I know you've been lining your pockets with their hard earned money for god knows how long, and ah ya know, I just think its the appropriate time you start paying it back. So I uh, I called corporate and explained the little incident and uh, they agreed to revoke your employee discount privileges. Just a way to uh, start paying back that money you owe, ya know?"

It was rare to see Brian show emotion. Everyone had grown to know him as the happy go lucky busser. Simple or stupid, either way at least he smiled and made everyone else feel good about themselves. But tonight, on Christmas Eve, Brian began to weep. As a grown man, at 47 years old, with his family in front of him, he had to call his father and ask for him to bring some money down to the restaurant to pay for dinner. Brian’s budget was tight. To say that he lived paycheck-to-paycheck would have been exaggerating. Brian's paychecks were insignificant because he was taxed on his tips, something he never understood, so most of the time he just prayed that business would stay steady enough throughout the week so he could keep the fridge at least half full and keep his daughters from looking homeless. However, because of one lonely, obese, miserable grinch, more than Brian’s Christmas was ruined, Brian’s outlook on the restaurant was tainted as well. This had always been a happy place for him and in 23 years of service to it, never had he felt the desire to bust out as so many others do after only one or two months on the job. Brian showed up to work the next day because he didn't have a choice. He worked through his shift that night, and to this day continues to work as a busser, he really has no other option, its what he knows how to do, so he does it. Before Christmas eve of 1996 Brian was content with his position in life. It didn't matter much what he did as long as it was honest and put food on the table. After Christmas Eve however, Brian realized he never had a say in the matter, he never had a choice to change careers, he never even had a shot at becoming a waiter and maybe making a little extra cash. Now 13 years after the check was dropped and 36 years after starting as a busser, Brian felt stuck and it's a sad truth, but he truly was.