Since taking a job at Garden Ridge about two months ago, I have frequented McAlister's Deli, a small chain restaurant. Altough the word deli is in the name, it is not a true deli by definition. There is no meat cutter, no man with a foreign accent barking out your order to the sandwich maker, no smell of pastrami or corned beef.
McAlister's is well known locally for it's fantastic sweet tea, and it's unusually large baked potatoes (they really use two potatoes and trim off one end of each, piecing them together to appear to be a football sized spud).
Today is Sunday, and at 12:30, it's busier than I am used to.
The staff and I have come to know each other over these two months. The restaurant is just across the street from Garden Ridge, and convenience takes advantage of me being a creature of habit.
Today, they are working exceptionally hard. Normally, the attitude is very laid-back, but Sunday after church means families and shoppers (the mall is a block away).
Today's crowd is an eclectic blend of ethnicity. In front of me is a surprisingly vacant table, and after that sit two Pakistani couples, one of which has brought their toddler along. Like all toddlers, he is adventuresome and eager to explore his surroundings. Dad tries to reign him in, but I say good luck with that. Let him learn but keep a watchful eye
At the table next to me is the typical American girls' day out. Mom, a pre-teen and two teenage daughters discuss their shopping plans. The college kids sit in the corner, crowding five to the table. The line from the door to the counter never seems to dissipate, and the staff is furiously trying to satisfy their clientele. Much to our toddler's delight, a young couple comes to sit at the vacant table. A new set of people to entertain!
Well, my spud is gone, and so is my lunch hour.
Until next time...
Posts
