he was particularly circus freak sized. You wouldn't know it from the way he maneuvered himself around-the guy had moves that would've put ballerinas to shame. Plus, he dressed to impress, always. I never saw him in any casual wear, unless swim trunks count.
Now, I had been working in food service for quite some time, in places slightly better than the Greasy Spoon but not by much, and I knew enough to take things in stride. Doesn't matter if it's a Hollywood hot shot or a bum begging for change at your table, you never know who's going to leave that big tip at the end of the meal. So, I went over to take his order, being friendly but businesslike, you know?
I said to him "So, do you know what you want or should I give you more time?"
He looked me over, brushing back one of his sideburns, before answering me. "Well, my dear, perhaps that query applies more to you than it does to me."
I wasn't in the mood for wise guy talk. "Look, Mister" I tell him, "we're pretty busy here so when you want to order something that's on the menu (I tapped said menu to make my point), you just let me know."
As I started to storm off, Dexter put a hand on my elbow and said "Pardon me, Miss Margery, is it?"
Since I was wearing a name tag , him calling me by name wasn't a problem but grabbing my arm was except that he wasn't holding it too hard. "I truly don't mean to aggravate a working person in the course of their duty but from time to time, I sense that someone is not where he or she was meant to be in life. A gift from my grandmother May, so it has been said."
"That's nice; all my grandmother ever gave me was red hair and the back of her hand." I tried to slowly yank my arm away from him but that light grip was strong.