The Lunch Switch

**Another section from my multi-genre because I'm too busy (and lazy) to update my blog**


The Lunch switch at the Harbor Grill is always the hardest time of day. Seemingly all at once, customers abruptly stand up from their tables as they finish their meals, inadvertently whacking their shopping bags, and strollers, and luggage into the abundance of servers already clogging the thin aisles of the restaurant, all fighting for precious room to move about as I struggle to carry dirty dishes soiled with half-eaten omelets, globs of ketchup, soggy homefries, and toast smeared with sticky purple jelly that always ends up on my hands, and clothing, and somehow my face just as people are lining up at the hostess stand asking me for breakfast, when I've already brought out the lunch menus with strict directions to seat only those here for lunch, yet they all still moan, "but they're eating breakfast why can't we?" pointing like little children at a table that sat down an hour ago, at 10:30, when we were still serving breakfast and I still had an ounce of sanity and pride, back when I hadn't bussed 25 tables and crawled on my hands and knees in my nice white pants to pick up dirty napkins, and sugar packets, and torn pieces of paper once used to hold together the silverware rollups I spent all morning assembling; back when I hadn't dealt with customers who were too hot, too cold, waiting too long, paying too much; before I realized I never should have gone out last night, never should have drank two glasses of wine, five beers, two--no, wait three--shots because now my head hurts and my hands are shaking so that every tray I carry trembles and Rick laughs at me from aside even though he was the one force-feeding me socos and limes, making me destroy my life, convincing me it was a good idea—though, trust me, it seemed like one at the time—until I found myself here, now, with the worst hangover of my life, stuck in my idea of hell, swearing I'll never drink again even though I'm secretly craving a strong shot of tequila just to make this unbearable lunch switch just a tiny bit tolerable, just to make it all go away.