Coffee and Snickers – Randy’s Writing Page
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Christmas Eve at Gouda’s (Breaking Rule Number Seven of the Christmas Commandments)
(c) 2011 By Randy D. Pearson
As the manager of a restaurant called Gouda’s – Where it’s Not Merely Good-a, it’s Great-a! – every day seemed to be full of emergencies to handle and fires to extinguish. I sat checking inventory levels on the computer in my office, wondering if today, being Christmas Eve, might be one of those rare, non-bizarre days. Could today possibly be free of drama and weirdness?
The moment that thought hit my brain, I heard shouting, then a sharp knock on my door. “Jerry,” Monica yelled, “you gotta get out here!” Cursing myself for even letting that thought surface, I stood up and walked out to the floor.
Three of my loveliest servers stood on our side of the counter, while an exceedingly angry man loomed large on the customer side. His head of unkempt black hair reminded me of a 70s rock star like Syd Barrett or maybe Jim Morrison, with wild, crazed eyes sticking out just underneath his swooping curls. He had on a fluffy, olive green jacket, a red t-shirt with a picture of… what is that, a Care Bear? Also, he sported what I would categorize as pajama bottoms, shades of pink and red assaulting my sense of fashion. Jabbing a finger at Trudy, he said, “You can’t treat me this way! You know the customer is always right!”
Oh geez, nothing good or intelligent ever came out after someone dropped that golden nugget of wisdom. “Hi sir,” I said quickly, “I’m Jerry, the manager. What seems to be the problem?”
Eyes flaring, he said, “Breach of contract, that’s what!” When I furrowed my brow, he pointed up. Dangling from our sign above the counter hung some mistletoe. “Your waitress is standing under the mistletoe, and yet she refuses to kiss me.”
“Uh, sir…”
“Don’t, ‘Uh, sir’ me! I know my rights!”
I really hoped this was some weird joke, but he sure did look legitimately angry. “Sir, mistletoe isn’t a binding agreement. It’s just supposed to be a silly tradition.”
“No, you’re wrong! She is breaking rule number seven of the Christmas Commandments. Mistletoe is a promise for a kiss, according to Kramer vs. Kringle. Failure to meet that promise can result in serious consequences!”
“I’m sorry. But if Trudy doesn’t want to kiss you…” I turned to look at her, and she confirmed this by shaking her head vehemently. “…then I’m afraid that’s the end of that.”
When he reached into his pocket, I instinctively tightened up. I felt slightly better when he pulled out a cell phone. “I’m going to call my attorney.” He kept his eyes glued on me as he hit a bunch of numbers on the phone. “Yes, is this the law firm of Clause, Noel, and Nicholas? Yes, I have a mistletoe infraction at Gouda’s on Saginaw. How should I proceed?”
I started to say, “Look sir…” but he held up his finger.
“Uh-huh. Yes, I tried that. That too, yes. Okay, if it must come to that, I’ll tell him. Thanks.” Slapping his phone shut and dropping it back into the pocket of his fuzzy PJ bottoms, he said, “Oh, you’re in deep reindeer doo-doo now! You need to make this kiss happen right this second, or else my lawyers will slap a Christmas violation Injunction on you. Your names will all be added to Santa’s permanent Naughty List. No chance for parole! Coal for life!”
Wow. Okay. His smug smile, tinged with insanity, freaked me out. I could only think of one thing to say, one gambit to perform, though I didn’t like it one bit. “All right, so be it. You want a mistletoe-mandated kiss? Fine. Look where we’re both standing.” I pointed up to illustrate. “Pucker up, dude!”
He glared at me for a good fifteen seconds. Man, I really hoped this fruit loop wouldn’t call my bluff! Finally, he said, “That… that’s not…” He again pulled out his phone and made another call. “He just said… But he can’t… Are you… Oh, c’mon… Dang it!”
He looked at me with fire in his eyes for a while longer, then he sighed. “I officially release you from this contract. Dang you!” As he turned toward the door, he exclaimed, “That’s it, I’m outta here. You’re all a bunch of ho-ho-hos!” With that, he shoved the door open and dashed away.
Once the door slammed shut, the whole place burst into applause, customers and employees alike. Several patrons patted me on the back or shook my hand. I then turned to my three waitresses. “That was just too weird! I think we’d be wise to remove this mistletoe. So who hung it in the first place, anyway?”
All three raised their hands, each with a huge grin. “We actually did it for you, boss. You’ve been so good to us this year. None of us can afford to get you a gift, but we decided there is one thing we can afford.”
One at a time, my lovely wait staff walked up and kissed me. Monica and Marge each gave me a sweet peck on the cheek. Then Trudy sauntered over. “My hero,” she said as she planted a quick, delicate smooch on my lips.
Smiling, I replied, “Thanks, ladies.” Then I grabbed a chair, jumped up on it, and removed the mistletoe. Several customers booed me. “Sorry folks, don’t wanna break any more sacred Christmas edicts.”
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