Why the Earth Doesn’t Fall
January 15, 2001
My boss and I have been known to frequent a particular eatery on our lunch breaks. They serve nice food and the atmosphere is ambient (read: not filled with sneezing children and an all-you-can-eat bar).
There is a reason we don’t visit the eatery that often, though. The reason is an American waitress named Amber. It doesn’t matter how early we have lunch, but it’s always too early to deal with Amber.
No less than five seconds after we’ve sat down, does Amber appear at the other side of the cafe, galloping across the room, desperate to take our orders.
‘Hello, my name’s Amber,’ she introduces herself.
‘We know,’ my boss and I quickly interject. We always try to stop her before she says the next sentence.
‘And I’ll be your waitress TAH-DAYYYYYYYY!’ she screams. My boss slowly closes his eyes and appears to be murmuring a prayer. I fumble for my headache tablets.
‘How have you been, Amber?’ I ask.
‘Oh my GAHHHD! You’ve been here before?’ she squeals, pleased beyond explanation that she has ‘regulars’.
‘Yes, you’ve talked to us a few times. You moved over from Calif-’
‘Californ-YAHHHHHHH! Oh my GAHHD! You remember me!’ she bellows.
‘How could we forget?’ my boss mutters.
‘Yeah, you told us the story of how a shark ate someone at a beach near the restaraunt where you worked,’ I remind her.
‘Oh, the day I got all the tips,’ she recalls, after a few seconds of computing. ‘I must just seem like this dumb waitress, right?’
My boss raises his eyebrows.
‘I’m not going to be a waitress my whole life, you know,’ she assures us.
‘Oh? Career change?’ I ask.
‘Soon, I’m going to become a professional waitress,’ she beams.
Silence clouds over us for a long time as we ponder this.
‘Um… what’s the difference there, between a professional and non-professional waitress?’ my boss finally dares to probe.
‘I’m more, you know, professional and that,’ she garbles. ‘So then I have a better chance of becoming a head waitress.’
‘Does, ah, does becoming a professional waitress mean you can compete?’ I ask.
‘Um…’ Amber turns this over in her head. ‘Um.. um…’
‘Jeb!’ my boss scolds me. ‘Don’t try to crash her brain!’
‘Uh… well, that’s really good, professional waitress and all that,’ I nod. ‘How long until this happens?’
‘Oh, I just have to wait a while,’ she pouts. ‘There’s a lot of waiting. But I don’t mind. It gives me time to think. I do a lot of thinking,’ she continues.
My eyes widen and my boss’s eyebrows raise.
My boss can’t resist. ‘So what do you think about, Amber?’ he asks.
‘Ooh! Ooh!’ she exlaims in a tone of voice that suggests she’s been waiting a long time for someone to ask her. ‘Lots of things. Like, philosophical and behavioural stuff.’
‘Like?’ I ask.
‘Well… I was wondering last week… why doesn’t the Earth fall?’ she whispers.
My boss gapes. ‘My god. WHY?’
‘Because it’s not limited to the behavioural aspects of the Earth itself!’ she beams.
‘Congratulations!’ I applaud. ‘What else?’
‘Ohh, my girlfriend and I were talking about this one at a party last week. We realised - smart people can pretend to be dumb; but dumb people can’t pretend to be smart.’
Cue extended period of silence.
‘Well, uh, Amber, that’s… quite profound,’ my boss finally says.
‘Obviously, you’re smart,’ I conclude.
‘And that’s not all,’ she continues. ‘Just yesterday, I was talking with-’
‘You know what? I’m not actually that hungry, I don’t think,’ my boss interjects.
‘Yeah, fuck this,’ I hiss at him. ‘Let’s get a kebab.’
‘Okay,’ he says. Then we stand and leave.
