Oh Richard why are you such a Dick?

I had one of those tables of two on Wednesday night that you sort of know but you don't know well enough. Friends of friends rather than actual friends, if you know what I mean. Actually they are more acquaintances of friends than friends of friends. To be honest that is stretching it a bit. The guy used to go out with a friend of my mates. Christ I'm making hard work of this.

I sort of knew the guy, that's all you need to know.

Richard
or Dick to the people who know him....

But he thinks he knows me, which is disappointing because he greeted me like a long lost brother with a big hearty hello, complete with backslapping and big toothy smile, and I returned it with nothing more than a vague and skeptical look.

"Right, yeah I'm good. And how are you....?", I scanned the booking sheet in the vain hope that his name would pop out. It did not. More disappointment.

After an awkward moment or two where I pretended to know who the hell he was I got him seated. Actually I got waiter chum number four to seat him. His over the top greeting and overt friendliness unsettled me and I needed a moment to figure out who he was. By the time my dark matter clicked into gear waiter chum had secured a drink order from him and the guy's dining partner had excused herself to the bathroom. He had gone out with my chums friend and had been less than chivalrous towards her, the two timing rat.

I drifted over with his drinks. That's not entirely accurate, drifting that is, as I was shattered from a busy lunch shift and pre concert crowd. The Dionne Warwick crowd isn't a happy crowd. It would be judicious to say I dragged my aching body to his table, think Quasi Modo minus a bell fetish and you are about right.

"So how's you doing Richard? Haven't seen you in a while", says I with fake sincerity.

"Oh good good Manuel, busy with a bit of this and that and more of the same." I love people who speak in riddles. Wanker. Bit of this and that is it? Nothing in other words.

"That's good [long pause filled only with nodding head and fake smiles] eh I'll be back in a mo then to get your order."

"Great man, sweet, cheers." And just as I was about to turn my back his lady friend returned from the toilet.

"Ah Manuel this is my current girlfriend, Jenny. Jenny this is Manuel", he was looking rather smug at both of us. It almost seemed like he was proud to be showing of his rather attractive girlfriend to me and he was trying to show off the fact that he knew the waiter to her. Massive douche syndrome. But I heard what he said, Jenny heard what he said. I decided to stick around to see how that little faux pas was gonna play out. Deliciously I hoped.

"Excuse me?", says Jenny right on queue.

"Man-uel", says our Richard or Dick as I think I'll call him from here on in. He said it nice and slow as if Jenny hadn't heard him right.

"I heard his name." Her head was going like a cement mixer.

"What do you mean ,"current girlfriend"?" Ding ding ding, we have a winner! I was still standing there with the tray held up on my chest. This was gonna kick off.

"Ach...", says Dick "....you know what I mean"

"No, actually I don't, why don't you tell me?"

"Seriously I didn't mean anything." His uncomfortableness was pleasing me and I chuckled, into myself, as he squirmed and wriggled on his increasing hot chair.

"NO, explain yourself. Am I just a temporary measure? A stand in until something better comes along? Explain yourself." She was calm but forceful. I was still there, still watching, still loving it. I wanted to shake hands with Jenny and introduce myself properly. Honest. Describing your partner in the same way you describe a car or stereo or mobile phone is not smart, it's offensive.

"No, no you're not." Turning to me he continues with, "Manuel..."

"Yup?" I was intrigued.

"This is Jenny my one and only girlfriend."

Now I know what he meant but it didn't come across the way he meant it. It instead implied that there may be others and knowing his track record there probably were. Jenny took it that way too. We shook hands and I backed away.

"Listen Dick, just stop speaking. Your digging a hole", says Jenny from behind her menu.

Dick was ashen. Jenny was angry. Manuel was full of the joys of life. Other peoples pain? Is there anything funnier? In the end Jenny wasn't hungry, apparently and they both left after finishing their drinks. I think Jenny went to fetch the car as she left before Dick, on her own. I don't think Jenny is Dick's current girlfriend or ever will be again.

Lovely.

Friends

Having friends is great, it really is. Wouldn't life be very sad and lonely if we had no friends? There would be no one to share those exciting moment with, there probably wouldn't be any exciting moment without friends. Friends help us grow and they enrich our lives. The best of them are there through thick and thin. Whether your circle of friends is a large and varied one or a small and tight one it's just smashing to have them.

Friends...
...not mine.
Mine aren't that good looking, tidy, sober, etc.

Still, it's a real fucking pain in the waiter's hole when they book tables or even worse arrive unannounced at your place of employment. I really fucking detest serving friends at work. It's got nothing to do with being their waiter or being subservient to them, not that I am anyones gimp, but you know what I mean. It's just that I'm never sure how to serve them.

Am I supposed to be Manuel their friend or Manuel their waiter?

Some situations can be dealt with a quick swapping of sections or a well timed break but when the worst comes to the worst you have to serve them, your friend. Your friend that knows what you did that summer in the holiday cabin in Donegal with the thing and the stuff and knows you don't talk about it. Your friend that loves to embarrass you when you are being your most professional. Serving friends is two hours of sweat and nerve jangling torture, not always but mostly.

I've served numerous friends over the last few weeks. Some are better friends than others, some I'd rather serve than others. Actually there were a couple that I'd rather drown than serve. But hey ho a waiter's gotta do what a waiter's gotta do.

Serving your very best friends (is it still okay to have best friends when you are 35?) isn't so bad because you know they will cut you some slack if you are under pressure. They might give you some gentle-ish abuse at a later date but for the most part serving your grade -A Chums is okay. Things start getting a fair bit shitty as you move down the pecking order from Grade A chums to run of the mill chums to stop and chat friends then acquaintances to friends of friends and finishing off with the guy who is always in the shop when you are.

Oh and then there are ex-friends. But that's a whole other post and hierarchy of friendships, you know ex-girlfriends, ex-wife, friends of theirs and so on. And it's a stone wall guarantee that when an ex walks into your section she will look a million dollars her new chap will probably be worth a million dollars and you will be covered in chocolate sauce and smell of sour milk and or piss.

Guran-fucking-teed.

Like I say serving best friends is easy. Just as serving the guy who you always meet in the shop is easy. It's that middle group of hangers on friends that are the problem kids. Best friends you can tell to fuck away off if you have to and there wont be any come back. You hold no emotional attachment to the guy from the shop so he can be ignored if you have to. But the middle group of acquaintances and second order friends are just so bloody difficult to serve.

It's the small talk you see. Most tables require an certain amount of small talk during the meal, the weather, sport, cultural events, are they or aren't they secret service agents and so on. I'm very very good at small talk with people I don't know. I am very very shit at small talk with people I sort of know or are peripheral friends. Once you have covered the usual, "What you up to?" and "How's the family?" and "Have you seen John Doe recently?" type shite what else is there to talk about?"

It's at this point that awkwardness sets in. Now that's okay as long as it's me suffering from the awkwardness, I can just stay away from their table. But if the awkwardness is theirs then I start to feel bad and try to over compensate. It's all so unbearably horrible. I once did the, "When's it due?" thingy to a couple who were friends of my ex-wife's just to look like I cared and wasn't all bitter and what have you only to discover she was just carrying a few extra pounds. Cheeeerist.

I had more friends in On Friday with the table of 80 teachers. One of them I was delighted to see and we hugged it out and caught up on news and babies and that sort of stuff. The other conversation went something like this,

Work
News
Family
New house
Nodding head - me
Nodding head - her
Silence
Awkward silence
More head nodding
Embarrassed silence
"Okay then......."
Walk off.

It's such a drag. I'm resolved to not repeat such a carry on again and have decided just to act aloof when friends arrived for dinner. I still love you I just don't want to talk to you. And really isn't that what we all want from our friends? Maybe I just need some new friends with more interesting lives.

Maybe I need a more interesting life......