Halloween 1995 by Carol Wells
One year I worked at a combination sports bar and family restaurant. Halloween rolled around and the wait staff was told that we could dress up for the holiday. As expected, part of the staff decided that they would dress as normal for work. I decided why not go for the gusto and went home to whip together a costume.
I will not mention the name of the restaurant ... but for those curious, the name began with a letter D and supposedly famous for onion loaves. Since the environment, for the wait staff, was fast paced ... clown shoes and such would be off limits in consideration for a Halloween costume.
Sure, the first thought was "You are 36 now, Carol. Do like the others - skip the costume and show up in uniform." And I was content with that ... until I stopped by a local Goodwill store and, for some inexplicable reason or fate, they had someone donate what looked to be their entire collection of wigs.
Not your cheap style wigs but the fancy ones, and in all colors. Red, brunette, black, short, mid length and long curls. Price was reasonable, twenty-five cents per wig. I picked out one.
At home, I went to my mother's room and rummaged through her drawers and closet. She got into the swing of things also, analyzing my selections and offering ideas of her own. My daughters instructed to help locate some bits and pieces to complete the costume. The next afternoon I started the transformation.
As already expected, part of the wait staff showed up dressed as if it were a normal work night. I, on the other hand, when walking into work stood out like a sore thumb. The manager came out of the office, and told me that I was not allowed in the wait station. "Why not," I asked ... she did a double take and looked closer at me.
"Carol?"
"Trish?"
"Oh hold on, I have to call my husband and have him come by to see this," she laughed while going back to the office. Those little things should have tipped me off right a way that my costume was too good. When other servers asked me to go by their tables, I started to get more than a glimmer of thought that Carol would not be making a lot of tips herself ... but helping others making tips.
At last, I had a table in my section. Other customers, who knew I was an employee in costume, watched expectantly on what the occupants reaction would be to their server. The other servers paused to watch as well.
I looked over at the couple seated in my section, and waved gaily to them. They either did not see me at first or ignored my friendly gesture.
I walked over to the table, pausing every 10th step to look back up and wave in their direction with a big smile. They started to look around, wondering whom I was waving to and if anyone was waving back to me.
When I reached the table, I paused again and looked sideways at the couple. "How are you young'ns tonight," I asked with a smile.
"Fine," the man replied while his wife looked at him curiously. Her eyes clearly saying, "Do you know this woman? I sure don't."
"That's nice," I smiled. "Real nice. You two out for a nice dinner this evenin' eh?"
"Yes," the woman replied. "We are just waiting for the waiter or waitress."
"Ah," I smiled while opening the old straw purse decorated with seashells that I was carrying. "Real hungry, I take it then."
"A little," the man smiled and winked. Ah, he was starting to catch on to what was happening.
"Well tell me, missy," I winked at the woman. "You gonna have a little alcohol with your meal tonight or stick to soda pop instead?"
"Uhm ... well," she looked at her husband confused. Why was this strange person asking her this?
"I was thinking about a beer myself," the man said, starting to chuckle at his wife's expression.
I pulled out my pad and pen out of the purse; the woman at the table did a double take. "You ... You are our waitress," she asked.
"Yes sirree bobcats, Hagatha's the name, servin' food is my game. But you can call me what my dear old' husband called me, rest his soul," I said while putting a hand to my chest and looking at the ceiling for a moment.
"What was that," the husband asked curiously.
"'You old' Hag," I smiled.
In case you did not figure out my costume by now, I was dressed as a 'little old lady'. I borrowed one of my mother's dresses and sweater, since she dressed similarly to Vicki Lawrence's character of Mama on Mama's Family for church.
I took one of her brassieres, since she is more 'blessed' in that area, and placed an apple in each cup for "sag". Laugh lines and 'crow's feet' sketched on with a light brown eyeliner pencil then a thin coat of foundation to smooth the artistic touches. A pair of pantyhose tied to a doorknob then pulled to stretch the legs out so that the nylon would gather around my ankles. The twenty-five cent gray wig being the inspiration yet crowning piece to the entire ensemble.
I became a hit to the point that my station was closed down so I could visit the other servers' tables. The main manager would have a handful of customers complaining about him having the audacity to have a "little old lady" whom they presumed was "his mother" working! He would apologize to the person then I would be told to go by the table and let them in on the joke that I was too young in reality to be his mother.
About This Story's Author:
© 1999-2006 Carol Wells Dedicated to a guy named Bryan that I once shared a lot of laughs with while working.
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