Sitting across the table from the hubby at Mad Anthony's the other night, I saw a face on the TV screen that caused an immediate visceral reaction. Anger bubbled up from the depths of my being. I scowled. I may have even muttered a bad name.
The hubby saw who I was looking at and started laughing.
Who caused this reaction? Keith Olbermann? Bill Clinton? Hugo Chavez? Joel Osteen? No, no one you might expect. It was Gene Keady, former Purdue basketball coach.
When Colin was back at Purdue working on his master's degree, I supported the four of us by working as a waitress. I worked at a Damon's, where, in our Clubhouse, we had four large screen TV's. It was a fun place to work. The food was great. I was a good server and got good sections and made really, really good tips. I also had people who would request seats in my section. Unfortunately, one of those was Keady. (For the record, I don't think he cared who waited on him, but I usually had one of the two sections that had the best tables in the Clubhouse, and that's where he sat.)
The first time he sat in my section I was excited. He was with his wife and another couple. They ate and drank for hours. His wife smoked and I kept their glasses filled and their ashtrays emptied. The manager was comping their food, because, after all, he was Gene Keady. Usually a comped table meant an especially nice tip. Unless it was Keady. Then, as I discovered, it meant no tip.
So, they came in often. He would take up the best table, usually for the whole night. He and his wife were demanding. One time he left $5. When he sat in my section I usually lost about $25-30 that I usually made on that table on a weeknight.
Seems like it was just yesterday, not almost 20 years ago. Yep, I think I'm holding a grudge.