To Teddy and (mostly) Peggy

I want to try something crazy here. It may or may not work but let’s just see. 

Before you start reading this story, I want to make sure you have a drink next to you. It doesn’t need to be alcoholic, water or soda will do just fine. I will be attempting to give a virtual toast later and it’s only polite that we all have a drink. If you don’t have one, don’t worry. You’ll just feel ridiculous miming a drink later

When I was 19 years old, I spent my summer working at a fast food restaurant called The Marathon while living with my grandparents on Cape Cod. Cape Cod is the name of the area at the end of Massachusetts. It looks like an elbow. This is huge insider information, if you do the Cape Cod elbow to someone from Massachusetts, they’ll be like “woah! She KNOWS!”. It’s kind of like the Hamptons expect way more old people. I was a counter waitress. I wanted to be a waitress so badly. I really glamorized the whole situation. Bringing people food, smiling, getting tips, being exhausted after a rush of people leave. I just thought it looked fun.

This idea of being a waitress began at the beginning of the summer. When I first moved in, my grandparents sat me down and announced “we’re going to teach you a lesson about rent”. The lesson was I had to pay them rent. I walked over to the closest restaurant to their house and walked in and went “Hi, need help? I’m looking for a job.” On the other side of the counter was the oldest man I have ever seen in my life. He looks at me. Looks me up and down and says “yes. Come in tomorrow around 11 and we’ll start training”. Nailed it! Got a job! Looking back on this in 2024, that’s completely the wrong way to hire a person.

I had no clue what I was getting myself into. And I want to remind you, dear reader, this was my first job ever. What you could see as red flags, looked just like normal job things to me. I didn’t sign any paperwork. I didn’t give them a license or a social security number. No references or resumes. The old man simply taught me how to clock in and I was hired. They needed help. Oh they NEEDED help. Spoiler alert: they only hired two women as counter waitresses to work this place for the entire summer. That’s it. Just the two of us. We never called off. It was just me and Stella, a lovely woman from Bulgaria, taking orders, delivering food, wiping tables, refilling drinks, cleaning messes, and my favorite, sweeping the carpeted floor since they didn’t have a vacuum. 

The restaurant was owned and run by this old, Greek couple Teddy, the oldest man I had ever seen in my life, and his wife, Peggy. Teddy was quiet and just kept in the back. I think I saw him use the fryer a couple of times when it got really slammed. Peggy was the main one who ran the place. She’d take orders, run food, and talk to customers. She, like her lovely husband, was old. She was very old. Old and mean. I don’t know if it’s because she’s lived a long life or if it’s because running a restaurant is so hard or because being an immigrant in America is soul sucking but she was mean. She never learned my name. Every day, maybe I had Sunday off I don’t really remember, 8 hours a day, I was next to her and she never learned it. She just called me “girl”. She would take tips out of our tip jar. And, once, I was talking to a customer about his food and I didn’t notice someone had walked up to the cash register. I was just talking to this dude, I don’t remember exactly but I wanted a nice tip so I’m sure I was being very charming, and Peggy pulled on my ponytail. She grabbed the bottom of my ponytail and grabbed it. To get my attention. She is not a nice person. 

After a couple of weeks of working at the Marathon, I started to notice some regular customers who would come in. One of which is Mary. Every day at noon she’d come in and order a hamburger. Not a hamburger special just a hamburger. Burger and bun. And a coke. She’d sit at the same table by the window and eat her lunch. Peggy would join her each time too. She’d come over with a cup of stale restaurant coffee and sit with Mary and just chat. They’d laugh and go on and go on for like an hour. Then Mary would say goodbye, we’d help her throw away her meal, and then prep for the dinner rush. This happened pretty much every day. I didn’t even think twice about them being really good friends – just assumed they were. One day I just briefly mentioned to Stella how cute it was that Peggy’s friends came to visit her restaurant. Stella told me that Mary wasn’t her friend. Peggy heard through the community that Mary recently lost her husband so when she came into the Marathon for lunch one day Peggy asked if she wanted some company and Mary said yes. They’ve had lunch together every day since. They had only known each other for a few weeks.

This woman. This mean, cranky, not kind woman sat with this stranger because she knew she needed someone. She needed a friend. And Peggy was that friend for her. People really can surprise you. Even those who you’d never think were capable of compassion can find it in them. If Peggy can, you sure can. Maybe, just maybe, we all can find some compassion when we need to. 

So, here’s to you Peggy. You old, cranky bitch.

Did it work? Did you toast to Peggy?