America, What a Country!
They were a young couple in their mid twenties, just starting out. He worked in construction, or maybe as an auto body mechanic. He had close-cropped hair, and wore a Smith and Wesson muscle shirt. She was plump, but not overly so, and was on her lunch break from the Dollar Store. They both had the harried look of a couple for whom income almost precisely matched expenses, leaving precious little margin for error. He made 10 dollars an hour or so, and she chipped in 6, and they were making it, not living high and fancy, but there was a nice double wide that would be theirs after another 236 payments, and the requisite pick up truck out in the parking lot with 85,000 miles on it that he had bought back when he was still single. You could see that the day was coming soon when the pick up would be traded in for a minivan, or a used SUV if he had a good year. Just getting by and dreaming of the days when they would do more than get by, and might even get a little ahead. There was a bass boat with his name on it, as well as some new living room furniture to replace the hand me downs they got as a gift from her parents when they got married.
They had decided to eat out for lunch today, maybe to celebrate a promotion, or to enjoy some time together, or maybe because she was too busy or tired to cook. He brought their daughter, a cute little girl about 5 years old with him to see Mommy. They had come to the local buffet, because the food was good, and cheap. With an ease born of experience they traded off watching the little girl as plates were filled; she watched the little girl while he got his salad, then she got her daughter’s food. Then while they ate, she went back for her food. Dad got their daughter for the second round, and so on. They talked all through lunch, sharing their days and laughing with their daughter.
The buffet was impressive, steam and refrigerator tables loaded with food. There was fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy (it’s required by law that all buffets serve fried chicken). There was lasagna, taco salads, grilled chicken breasts, pork cutlets, baked fish, fried okra, lima beans, spinach, corn on the cob, baked potatoes, sweet potato wedges, several relishes, pizza, spaghetti, sandwich fixins’, a full salad bar with spring onions, lettuce spinach, tomatoes, sliced, or cherry, diced ham and turkey, shredded cheese, real crumbled bacon, several dressings. Off to the side was the dessert bar, with puddings, gelatins, cakes, pies, and ice cream. He made three trips and she made two, and the little girl made four (two to the dessert bar).
The price for this magnificent feast for three?
Under $18.00 including tip.
Think about that for a minute. For basically one hour’s labor, this blue-collar family was able to eat a meal rivaling Bacchanalian banquets. What a country!
At the same restaurant, there was a girl named Amy waiting tables. She was a pretty little thing, in her early twenties, and sporting a gaudy engagement/wedding ring. She was well dressed, with expensive jewelry, and there was an innocence to her expression that told she had never had to struggle for anything. She had a nice smile as she greeted her customers, and rushed to fill their drink glasses while they headed to the buffet. She carried a little of that smile with her as she worked, like she had a small secret she found amusing. Around 2:30, her husband showed up in their new Audi with their son, a 5-year-old tyke just out of pre-school. Her husband was neatly attired in slacks and a dress shirt, tie pulled loose at the neck as he led his little boy towards the back of the restaurant. He said hello to his wife as she moved to hug him, then stopped at the barely perceptible shake of his head. He wasn’t one for public displays of affection; it just didn’t fit his image.
The little boy pulled up a chair to one of the tables in the back, crossed his legs on the seat, and began coloring as his dad said goodbye and went out to the car, straightening his tie as he headed back to the office. Amy gave her son a quick hug and went back to waiting tables. The little boys eyes followed her hungrily as she moved around the restaurant, refilling drinks, seating new customers and bussing tables. Every now and then, she would look over at her boy, and when their eyes met, his face lit up with a huge grin. Eventually her shift would end, and she would take her little boy home to the suburb, make dinner, then plop down in front of the TV for a few hours of mindless entertainment before going to bed. Her husband would stay at work late, working to pay for the Audi, the house, the second car they planned on getting soon, and to put money away for his son’s college fund. The little boy would play video games in his room until bedtime, then come downstairs to kiss his mommy goodnight, and go to bed. Tomorrow, the story would play out again, and again, as Daddy got ahead, and Mommy got her pin money, and the little boy got...what?
What a country!
Posted by Rich at September 11, 2002 7:24 AM