Shit on your own doorstep, not mine.......

"You don't know me."

"What?"

"You don't know me, I've never been here before. Right?"

This was weird.

The sharp dressed man, every girls crazy bout a sharp dressed man apparently, was grimacing at me with panic stricken eyes and speaking to me through gritted teeth. It was more threat than request.

"Seriously you need to be cool here." I hadn't a notion what was going on. I hadn't even given him a menu yet. Normally people hold back on the threats until they have got to know me a bit. So this was different for sure.

But I did know this guest, I've served him two maybe three times a month for the best part of four years. I knew him. I knew his wife. I knew his two dewy eyed kids. What I didn't know however was the name of the stunning brunette woman who took up the seat adjacent him a few moments later. She sparkled with both youth and beauty, her eyes danced with the excitement of the night. Actually she was a fraction of his age, Christ I have wine in the store that's older.

All became clear.

This was not a simple dinner with a work colleague or family friend. This was a whole lot more sleazier than that, an illicit tryst. Sinfully and against every moral fibre in my body, there aren't many moral fibres in my body but enough to know when shit is wrong, I played along. I'm a waiter not a guardian of moral correctness. But still it pissed me right off.

I decided to play along for one reason alone, the young lady with him. Something told me she didn't know about the lovely wife and two dewy eyed kids. She seemed blissfully unaware of his panic and threats through gritted teeth. Also his wedding ring was no where to be seen, probably tucked up nice and safe in his jacket pocket or underneath his porn stash or fake id's. So I wined and dined as always and never let on for a moment that I knew what was going on.

Towards the end of the night he made his excuses and left the table. I was polishing cutlery at the time and watched as he came towards me wearing an expression of relief and gratitude.

"Listen I'm really grateful for that, you know. She's.....eh...you know....eh...."

I should have let him continue but I didn't have the stomach to listen to his weazly exculpation.

"Sir..." I would normally address him by his first name, but we didn't have that kind of relationship anymore. "....you don't have to say anything to me."

I continued polishing the cutlery.

"Here take this." And he reached put to stuff money into my hand.

"Sir there is no need. You've already tipped me. It's fine." If I took that cash I was even more complicit than I already felt. He could keep his hush money, I didn't want it.

They left a short while later. I darted out the back as I saw them getting up. The fuck if I was gonna wish them a good evening.

People have affairs. People fall in and obviously out of love with each other, that's life I suppose. I fully understand that more than I want to talk about on here. But what you don't fucking do is drag me, a harmless and innocent bringer of food and drink, into your world of fictional work parties, fictional nights out with the boys, or fictional fucking anything. I'm Catholic (lapsed. Actually is there a state of Catholicism after lapsed? I'm that), I have enough guilt of my own without you and your bullshit adding to it.

Fuck right off and go to a different restaurant. Don't shit on my doorstep.

Cunt.

I'll be drinking. If anyone needs anything get it yourself.