Long Weekend

Over weekend completely forget about work and very quickly become person of leisure. Dave and Jenny always prepared to lounge and walk, and we do quite a bit of both. Do not feel like seeing anybody else, so don't. On Sunday night, Dave and I decide to take ourselves for a burger (each) and beers. When we are getting ready to go, Jenny sits by the door, evidently under the mistaken conclusion that she is to go to dinner with us. Face even more mournful than usual. Shut door, feeling like cold hearted murderer. When achieve elevator, hear howl from end of hall. Stranger is also waiting for elevator. In horror, hear self say, I wonder whose dog that is? I don't know, stranger says, but that dog howls all the time. (Memo: If true, something must be done before we are evicted. Howl not pleasant.) Get to bar of restaurant and sit on stools. It take some time--eye beer taps and lick lips--before bartender comes over to ask, Can I help you with something? Think this a very odd form of address in a bar. Wonder what might he think we'd want? Order 2 beers, 2 glasses of water and tell self that there is no need to get huffy--bartender is demonstrably off--is wearing odd combination of short gray shorts, sort of like flannel dress pants, but bottom only hits upper thigh, also wearing a rumpled dress shirt and long black dress socks, more or less like hose, which would go very high up leg if hadn't been pushed down to just above knee. Can't say that will immediately begin wearing similar outfits, but perhaps waiter is merely far, far ahead of the curve and next year I'll be wishing I thought up the outfit myself. Ask for menus. Bartender asks, You want to eat??? Can feel Dave seething beside me. Yes, he replies curtly. Want to try to lighten mood--mine and Dave's, and as the bartender meanders to where the menus are kept, say quietly, Why would we want to eat or drink in a restaurant, Mr. Longsocks. Dave brightens, carrying my joke a step further, whispering to me, Carry on, Pippi! Pippi's bar tending performance does not improve as the night goes on: water is never brought, our burgers though ordered medium rare are like old shoes, the bill he brings is wrong and it takes some time to convince Pippi that we did not have a bottle of Prosecco and a cheese plate. You didn't? he asks suspiciously. But we don't care, because poor Pippy has to work and we don't. Know that this is a cruel state of affairs, but am glad that am on the nonworking side for the evening. Truth of this becomes very evident when am in meeting this morning with Susan, Oliver, and the union representative. Meetings with union representatives are, naturally, confidential, but can write that in retrospect, Pippi's disinterest in work receives new understanding.