I worked a really slow shift a couple of days ago and it took a lot of effort to keep my eyes open. Seriously, I practically had to pull the olives off the toothpicks and prop open my eyelids with them. I sauntered up to table 25 and asked what they would be drinking for the evening. The lady looked up and squinted at me like she was trying to think of what to say. And then she asked me if I was an actor. “Yes.” In my head I am getting all excited because maybe someone saw me in When in Rome. In the background. Standing on the steps. Yes, I am that famous. Then she asked me if I had done a certain show at a certain theater. “Yes.” And then she tells me “I saw you! You were so great!” Suddenly, being a waiter wasn’t so horrible because here I was holding a tray, but this lady had seen me doing something that I actually enjoy doing. It felt like I was meant to be waiting tables that night just so she could sit in my station and make me feel good about myself. I felt proud, happy and excited. And then I went and got her a glass of Cabernet. Very quickly I was consumed with bitterness and sorrow that I was just a waiter. Fame is so fleeting.
The next night, I was at a bar drinking. Shocking, I know. During my second pint of Anchor Steam a very attractive girl came up to me and tapped me on the shoulder. “Excuse me, but do I know you?” she asked. In my head I’m thinking, “Oh jeez, another person who saw me do a show somewhere or caught my (brief and practically non-existent) appearance in Enchanted. When does it ever end?” I looked at her and smiled. Her face filled with recognition and she said “I think you were our waiter at VYNL on the Upper East Side?” Crestfallen, I tell her that yes I was in fact her waiter there. “Oh my god!! I loved their granola!! See I told you it was him!” and she playfully slapped her friend on her arm as she laughed and they trotted off. Fame is so fleeting.