A waitress speaks

The diner scene in Five Easy Pieces made me think of Dolores Dante, from Studs Terkel’s Working (New York: Pantheon, 1974):

I have to be a waitress. How else can I learn about people? How else does the world come to me? I can’t go to everyone. So they have to come to me. Everyone wants to eat, everyone has hunger. And I serve them. If they’ve had a bad day, I nurse them, cajole them. Maybe with coffee I give them a little philosophy. They have cocktails, I give them political science.

I’ll say things that bug me. If they manufacture soap, I say what I think about pollution. If it’s automobiles, I say what I think about them. If I pour water I’ll say, “Would you like your quota of mercury today?” If I serve cream, I say, “Here is your substitute. I think you’re drinking plastic.” I just can’t keep quiet. I have an opinion on every single subject there is. In the beginning it was theology, and my bosses didn’t like it. Now I am a political and my bosses don’t like it. I speak sotto voce. But if I get heated, then I don’t give a damn. I speak like an Italian speaks. I can’t be servile. I give service. There is a difference.

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People imagine a waitress couldn’t possibly think or have any kind of aspiration other than to serve food. When somebody says to me, “You’re great, how come you’re just a waitress? Just a waitress. I’d say “Why, don’t you think you deserve to be served by me?”

So many memorable voices in that book. Sharon Atkins, receptionist: “I never answer the phone at home.” Brett Hauser, supermarket box boy: “In the general scheme of things, in the large questions of the universe, putting a can of dog food in the bag wrong is not of great consequence.” Lincoln James, maintenance man in a rendering and glue factory: “It’s not a stink, but it’s not sweet either.” Joe Zmuda, retired: “That daydreaming don’t do you any good.”

[The Social Security Death Index lists one Dolores Dante, 1929–1979. “Dolores Dante” was a pseudonym.]