This is my last day at this restaurant. LAST day. This thought ran through her brain as Meg poured a cup of coffee, as she delivered a children's meal, as she beamed at a generous tip left by an older couple. Those were the moments she would miss: the people who smiled at her and she smiled back.
And then there were the moments when she clenched her teeth as a ten year old threw ketchup-covered French fries on the floor and on Meg. The Mom said nothing.
The final moment came as the last minutes ticked to a close: birthday time.
A few other waitresses brought out the requisite blue-icing covered cupcake with the requisite candle to the French fry table. Okay, let's get this over with. Here, Meg, this is your table. Meg was handed the cupcake, lit it and they headed to ten-year old French fries table.
They sang the requisite hellish song as Meg glared at the boy. At the last moment, Meg blew out the requisite candle and smashed the blue icing cupcake onto the surprised face. Smeared it real good.
Taking off her apron, Meg sauntered away from the French fry air. The cries of the boy were tip enough from that table.
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