X10: The Honesty Beneath Your Mash Potatoes
My old friend Sally can remember when I waited tables.
That’s because I waited tables in HER restaurant. I’m out of college now, have my degree in advanced malt beverage appreciation, and have risen to the top of my career as a party clown.
Poor Sally, however, is still stuck in her never-ending job running a place the local restaurant critics call “a place to go when you’re on a diet and have a strong desire to fast.”
Sally is nearly six foot tall, and six-foot wide, and has a voice that shouts “cigarette addict.” Sometimes she puts out her cigarette on a plate of mashed potatoes.
She still serves “14 flavors of meatloaf, as long as it’s beef” and “half a dozen varieties of soup, as long as it’s split pea.”
The neighborhood has changed a lot since I waited tables there. The shady guy selling “insurance” if you wanted to keep all your car parts” when you got back from the ballgame, is gone now. So is the ballpark.
The city built the local baseball club a billion dollar sports paradise across the street from the old one. At the same time, half a dozen new hotels, double the number of fancy restaurants and even an Indian Casino have opened all around Sally’s place. But Sally keeps going. She insists that she will take her last breath in her restaurant.
Some customers were afraid that they might do the same if they ate there.
But I really like Sally, and feel kind of bad for her. I feel especially bad when I see Lucy, her prime hash slinger driving off in her very own luxury sports car. Lucy makes Sally look like a Metropolitan Dance Company ballerina. She hasn’t had a date since cell phones were the size of shoe boxes.
I wondered how Lucy could afford her luxuries. Sally didn’t pay much, and the tips weren’t enough to buy half a pack of gum.
Then I noticed, one night as I watched Lucy at the cash register. She would work the 10’s, 20’s, and even one 50-dollar bill so fast, you could barely see her slipping some in the pockets of her apron.
How could I tell Sally and live to tell, should Lucy find out?
I “Googled” insanity and “Sally” and somehow it brought me to X10’s “insanity sale.” There I could pick up a Lola Video Sender for me AND a surveillance camera for Sally to stick over the cash register. You get this entire package for about the price of dinner for 10 at Sally’s restaurant or half a dozen coffee ventis at Starbucks.
I wrapped up the camera for Sally and gave it to her as a birthday present – six months early.
Sally is still putting her cigarettes out on the mashed potatoes. She doesn't want to put any cameras in the kitchen in fear of the health inspector.
Lucy is still hoping the casino will hire her.