Carol_(1)

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Carol


Over the years, I had developed many friends through my hobbies of CB radio and auto racing. Many an evening was spent enjoying one of our coffee and bullshit gatherings that seemed to spontaneously develop. Someone over the radio would suggest meeting at a Sambo’s for coffee, and before you knew it, twenty or thirty people, sometimes more, would show up at the local Sambo’s.

Most of us also ordered something to eat while we were there. So, the manager at the local Sambo’s allowed us to freely use his back room and help ourselves to the coffee. We were a sober, but boisterous, group. But, since we had the back room to ourselves, the restaurant manager didn’t mind the noise. He often assigned his best waitress to work exclusively with our group. She, in turn, usually received a very nice tip from us. She frequently picked up a couple hundred dollars in tips for just a couple hours of easy work. Once we all had our food, she, more often than not, joined us. Due to the nice tips and fun atmosphere, Sambo’s waitresses were usually eager to serve us.

All but one, that is.

There was one particular waitress who didn’t like or appreciate us at all. She was an older lady who just wasn’t up to the noise and bustle of serving so many people at once. She was also a bit on the crabby side. We started referring to her as Granny Grump. While most of the waitresses laughed and joked with us, and returned our smart remarks with comments of their own, Granny Grump hated our racket. She especially didn’t like our self-help with the coffee.

Granny Grump was indirectly responsible for my meeting Carol and her family.

The fateful night I met Carol, she and her family had, for the first time, joined our CB group at Sambo’s. Carol was a large woman. She stood about 5’8″, and she weighed well over 350 pounds. She was married to Bill, also a large person. They had four children, two boys 6 and 15, and two girls 11 and 13. Carrie, the 13-year-old girl, was seated directly across from me at our large table.

Granny worked our group that night. She quickly became nervous, and her hands trembled. As Granny served soft drinks and water to the children, a glass of ice water fell off her tray. Carrie, with a shriek, caught most of the cold water on her head and chest. Most of our group began loudly laughing after we realized no one was hurt. Nobody was upset over what was obviously an accident. Well, except maybe Carrie.

Granny, instead of getting a towel to clean up the water, just stood there. She repeatedly denied any fault. “I didn’t do that!” She protested.

Being a natural born smart-ass, I asked Granny. “You have ghosts in here, or what? Oh, I know, that glass just jumped off your tray and onto Carrie’s head, all by it self.” I said, with just a touch of sarcasm.

Wagging my finger at the offending glass, I scolded it. “Bad glass! Bad glass! Don’t do that again.” The glass was thus duly admonished.

I then teased Carrie by asking. “Carrie, why did you pour that water over your head? Is it that hot in here?”

Carrie began laughing about her wet head with the rest of us.

When Granny didn’t seem to be making any effort to get a towel, I took the initiative, grabbed a towel from the waitress’ station, and gave it to Carrie. Carrie dried herself, and our evening continued.