Throwback Thursday Waffle House

I posted this back in 2009 when Ken's story ran in the Post and Courier. I liked Ken's story then, even though it was pretty much the story "waitress" I posted two years prior. The fact that Ken would take my post and run with it was enough compensation.

Waffle House

Waffle House is the kind of place I'll go on a dare, a late night or an 800-mile road trip. Waffle House is my idea of living on the edge.

Ken Burger is a former sportswriter for Charleston's Post and Courier Newspaper, and most of what he pens now is the run of the mill human interest story.

Cedar Posts once worked for a "hard news" editor, who earned his stripes as a crime reporter. He lived the motto "if it bleeds it leads" which pretty much sums up why my career in journalism never took off. Though the considerably less than six figure income I'll admit was never attractive.

Ken enjoys the career I didn't find, and in doing so he has the chance to watch and observe, then hopefully with some eloquent words tell us what he has noticed.

And so here is Ken's observation of a waffle house waitress:

 

$20 Waffles is Money Well Spent - By Ken Burger

You're staring at the plastic menu that doubles as a place mat when she arrives at your booth, her mousy-brown hair a mess, her name tag slightly askew.

Somehow you know that no matter how bad your day has been, hers has been worse.

That's because you just exited the highway where life goes by in a blur. You're on your way somewhere. You have a mission, a destination.

She, on the other hand, exists not far from this small, wayside restaurant that welcomes all comers with the same ageless greeting, "Welcome to Waffle House."

When it comes to fast food, travelers can spot the big yellow signs a mile away. You get what you pay for, and you're in and out in short order.

That's the beauty of Waffle House, which seems to have restaurants on every exit of every interstate in the South. Sometimes on both sides of the highway.

But in addition to food, they also serve as a microcosm of life on the edge in America.

All you have to do is listen to the chatter of the women behind the counter.

Working a double

Somewhere between ordering your waffle and the arrival of coffee, you inevitably pick up on the life and times of those who work in these 24-hour diners.

It goes without saying, life ain't easy or they wouldn't be working the midnight shift at Exit 26. The hours are long, and the work is hard. Pleasing hungry people is a chore, but it's a steady, honest living.

The waitresses often come from a slice of America overlooked by demographers. The overworked poor. Somewhere along the way, they fell through the cracks, onto hard times, caught in a whirlpool of misfortune, but willing to tread dishwater until the tide changes or something better comes along.

If you listen closely, between the clanking of dishes and orders being shouted out to the cook, you'll hear them talking about life in the slow lane.

Boyfriend's in jail. Kids are sick. Transmission's slipping. Taxes are due. Credit card's canceled. Working a double. Throat's scratchy. Feet hurt. Dog had puppies. Again.

What sounds like a country music song on the jukebox is suddenly asking if you want grits with that waffle.

You say no, thank you, ma'am.

A charmed life

In this crapshoot called life, I ended up a little north of normal.

It's a charmed life I lead, being able to write for a living. I know that and appreciate which side of the counter I'm on when I venture into the world of waffles.

Like most folks, I'm in a hurry to get where I'm going, and eating is just a necessary part of the journey.

But when I parachute into these ladies' lives, I'm always struck by their sense of humor, valor and ability to overcome despite some pretty overwhelming odds.

That's why waffles are the most expensive thing I eat. Because every time I stop, I end up leaving the lady with the mousy-brown hair and tilted name tag a $20 bill for a $2 waffle.

It's worth it just to see her smile.

Yup! Ken, Waffle House is always a reality check.

Saturday, April 25, 2009

Cedar’s Footnote: Ken Burger passed away on October 20, 2015. I miss his wit and those occasions when our paths crossed in Charleston. Lost a bet once to Ken, so he was kind and offered “double or nothing” on the following Saturday’s Citadel game. I agreed and lost again. I look forward to paying up one day in person. Perhaps with interest or maybe just another cup of coffee at the Waffle House.