Summer, 1994.
I’d just been out wandering when I stumbled across a new restaurant called K Tomato’s. I was wearing a band t-shirt and beat up slacks when I went in and asked for an application. Returning it my slacks were pressed, I had on a pair of dress shoes and I wore a collared shirt. I handed the filled out application to the man at the counter. He put on his reading glasses and looked it over.
He was an older middle eastern man with thick, dark hair, graying on both sides of his head. He had a gentle voice that sounded friendly but also a tired.
“Do you have time for an interview now?” he asked.
“Sure.” I answered.
I was young but I’d already had a lot of jobs, and I knew I was a good interview. Usually if I got an interview I got the job.
“Let’s have a seat.” he said, coming around the counter and gesturing at a table. “Can I get you anything?”
“No, thank you. I’m all set.”
His name was Jerry. He asked me about my restaurant experience, and about my most recent job traveling the country with an animation festival. I gave longer more enthusiastic answers when talking about the festival.
“Well, you sound like you know how to work, and you’re good with people. Can you start tomorrow?”
I agreed to come back the next day at 8am.
There weren’t any customers in the restaurant when I asked for the application, or when I returned it. When I showed up for my first shift there weren’t any customers either. I figured they must be slow on weekends and that things would pick up on Monday with all the state workers. Two customers came in during my entire 8 hour shift. I worked with Jerry and a teenager named Mika. Even with Jerry training us how to make the salads and sandwiches on their menu, and how to use the cash register it was hard to fill the time that I was there.
“You get a meal with every shift.” Jerry informed me. I told him I was vegetarian, and he prepared me a plate of hummus, with pita, and pickles. It was good. I asked him if I could pour myself a Coke and he said, “I will get it for you.”
Other than training me, and getting my lunch order Jerry didn’t talk much. “Business will pick up.” he said, when I clocked out.
“Of course.” I replied.
The next day was just as slow. I wiped counters that didn’t need wiping, and swept floors that didn’t need sweeping.
“Hey, I can take your menu to some of the local state offices. And I can help you make a flyer.” I offered.
“That’s okay, Keith.” he answered. “I make good food. Word will get around. It just takes time for people to notice we’re here.”
I had hummus again for lunch. On Tuesday we had no customers. At the end of my shift I told Jerry I was going to have to quit. “Keith, you’ve only worked for three days. Give it more time.” he said. He didn’t sound angry.
“I’m sorry, Jerry. I gotta be busier. I just can’t do nothing for a whole shift. You don’t have to pay me. Thanks for the hummus. Maybe I’ll come back to work for you when business picks up.”
“Of course I have to pay you.” he said. “Come by tomorrow and I’ll have a check for you.”
I said I would come by for my check, but I never went back. A month later I saw that they had closed down and the building was empty.