I hate to get things started and immediately jump into a couple weekend days of shorts, but that’s the nature of October starting on a Friday. I’ve got a 12-hour gig today and 11 and a half tomorrow, so it’s short ones today and tomorrow. Speaking of which, I could use some breakfast myself…

Chad checked his Rolex. Twenty minutes. He’d placed his order twenty minutes ago. He surveyed the packed tables in the makeshift “Parklet” that had sprung up on the street in front of restaurants to accommodate outside dining during the pandemic.

“Excuse me,” he caught a waitresses attention as she was hurrying back inside after setting plates down at another table.

“Yes, sir?”

“It’s been twenty minutes since I’ve ordered…”

“I’m so sorry. Let me go check on that for y—”

“I would like to speak to the manager.”

“Sir, I can go check on—”

“Your manager. Now, thank you,” he said as curtly as he could while he cradled the latte cup in his hand.

The waitress took a beat and swallowed down whatever she was going to say and replied simply, “Yes, sir. Let me get her,” before hurrying off.

Chad barely had time to pull the restaurant up on Yelp to leave a bad review before a tall, skinny woman in the black slacks and button-down shirt appeared beside his table.

“Sir, I’m Amanda the manager. How can I help?”

“Amanda, you said?” she nodded “Well, I’ve been here twenty minutes and I haven’t gotten my order yet.”

“I’m sorry for the wait. I believe the hostess explained when she sat you that we are really shorthanded right now and things are taking a bit longer.”

“Bah,” he said, “Everyone is shorthanded. You make do.”

Amanda’s lips pressed together in a smile that held back a lot she’d like to really say. “We’re doing the best we can, sir. We’re like a family here and we’ve lost people.”

“It’s the ‘Great Resignation’ isn’t it? Young people just don’t want to work. They’d rather accept unemploy—”

“Two cooks and three front of house employees have died since the pandemic started, sir. No one has quit.”

“Oh, I… uh…” he stammered as his cheeks went red. “I didn’t know…”

“How would you?” Amanda said. “But you’re right that it’s tough to find good people to replace the great people we’ve lost. That is something going on everywhere.” She pulled out the chair opposite Chad and sat down, and stared directly into his eyes. “We’re all working extra shifts trying to make sure we can make ends meet, trying to keep this place we love afloat, all while trying to be as safe as possible in an environment where we’re exposed to everything. Yes, we’re all vaccinated, but breakthrough cases happen – have happened. And we have to make up for being shorthanded. It’s thankless, but we’re all here every day. In the greater scheme of things, I don’t think the twenty minutes you’ve waited is asking too much. Please have some empathy.”

She stood up. Before Chad could get his thoughts together to retort, she said “Let me see where your order is…” and walked away.

Chad sat there rolling around what she’d said. He didn’t mean to be insensitive, but…

“Sir, here’s your steak and eggs,” The short woman set the plate in front of him. “And your toast,” she set another plate down. “My name is Michelle, I’m the manager. I’m sorry about the wait. We’re really shorthanded right now – I comped your double latte to hopefully make up for it.”

He gave her a quizzical look. “Michelle?”

“Yes?”

“You’re the manager?”

“I am, yes. Is there a problem?”

“I just talked to someone else who said she was the manager. She said her name was Amanda…?”

Chad watched Michelle’s face go white. “Amanda?”

“Yes, she was just here…”

“Amanda died last November. She was the manager here for years before she caught Covid…”

Chad knocked over his latte.