Peter and Jane

(Josie Sayz: This is a modern-day love story of Peter Pan and Jane (I don’t like Wendy. I have always liked Jane more; that is why this is a ‘Peter and Jane’ story and not a ‘Peter and Wendy’ story).
This is from the heart. It is incredibly personal, important and sensitive to me. For a long time I contemplated whether posting this was a good idea. I’m still not certain, but I am braving it for the time being. It may not be up for long.
The characters from this story are all taken from JM Barrie’s and ‘Disney’s ‘Peter Pan’. Peter is the main male protagonist. Jane is the main female protagonist (in ‘Disney’s ‘Return to Neverland’ she is Wendy’s daughter, but in this story she is not related to Wendy in any way). Wendy is Peter’s housemate. Barrie is Wendy’s pet dog (named after JM Barrie). Dani/Danielle is Jane’s best friend (in ‘Disney’s ‘Return to Neverland’ Danny/Daniel is Jane’s brother – I have changed the gender of this character). John is Dani’s partner (John is the name given to one of Wendy’s brothers in Barrie’s story).
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or location references – these are works by JM Barrie and ‘Disney’.)

Peter & Jane

The streetlamps blurred into a sparkle as she lowered her eyelids. Pressing her head against the window, the vibration tingled down her face as she let out a sigh. “You okay?” said a male voice beside her.

“Yeah,” she replied with another sigh, poking a smile into the corner of her mouth. “Guess what, Peter?” she asked, keeping her gaze with the passing lampposts.

“What?” asked her partner with a laugh. She smirked, letting out a little giggle as her stomach fluttered. She liked hearing his laugh.

“Today is four hundred and thirty seven days since you asked me out,” she beamed with blushing cheeks. Feeling his hand brush against her knee, she turned towards him with a giggle.

“Aww, you’re still counting?” he beamed, returning his hand to the steering wheel. “That’s sweet. And Jane… I wouldn’t take back a single day.”

“Me either,” she smiled.

Gazing out of the window, Jane turned her thoughts back to that very first day. Having always kept to herself, Jane was never out looking for love when she bumped into Peter in Kensington Gardens. He was out, walking his housemate’s dog, when he walked into what he always described as, “The cute, little red-head with her head in a book.” Upon their collision, Peter noticed Jane’s book and informed her that it was a favourite of his. Sitting on a bench they spoke for ages about books, authors, music, films and all of the adventures that one could go on when immersed in an amazing story. Before departing their separate ways, the two exchanged numbers, with Peter promising that he would take her on their own adventure one day… and that he did.

Upon their next encounter, Peter surprised Jane with a picnic in a little, enchanted woodland, far away from the city. There they spoke of how they had both had plans to go on exciting travels and mysterious adventures around the world, but various obstacles had prevented them both from carrying out their dreams. “I guess it’s all a part of growing up,” Jane had decided, folding her arms with a sigh.

“Then let’s never do it,” said Peter with wide eyes as he bolted upright.

“Never do what?” frowned Jane. Digging her elbows into the blanket, she pushed herself up to sit.

“Let’s never grow up,” he declared with a nod. “Well?” he said with a raised brow, awaiting her answer.

“It’s perfect,” Jane giggled behind her hand. With a groan, Peter reached his arms out to stretch, before hooking an arm around Jane’s shoulder.

“No, I think you’ll find that’s you,” Peter told her as he leaned over for a kiss.

Shaking her head a little, Jane brought herself out of her daydream as Peter pulled into her driveway. Noticing Jane had been quiet most of the journey, Peter turned towards her, placing a hand on hers. “Hey… what’s the matter?” he whispered.

“Nothing,” she shrugged.

“Come on, you’ve gone quiet. It must be something.”

Jane shrugged. “It’s just… I don’t wanna go another twenty four days before I see you.” Her bottom lip shook. Pinching her eyes tight, she lowered her head from him.

“You won’t,” Peter told her, dipping his head down to try and catch her attention. Throwing an arm around her, Peter pulled Jane into an embrace. She sniffed, nuzzling her head into his chest.

“Yes it will,” she sobbed, scrunching her hands against her eyes.

“It’ll be as soon as we can,” Peter assured her. Rubbing a hand up and down her arm, Peter kissed the top of her head.

“Do I need to book another day off work just to see you for a couple of hours on your day off or will you be too busy?” Jane murmured, tugging on his jumper.

“Don’t be silly,” Peter replied with a laugh to his voice. “That’s just what happens when both people work.”

“So, see you in over three weeks, then?” she sulked, pushing Peter away. Throwing her hands to her eyes, she buried her face away from him.

“It won’t be that long, you’ll see.”

“You said that last time,” Jane squeaked as she caught her breath. “And it was longer.”

“I know,” Peter sighed. “But it’s work.” As Jane looked up at him, Peter wiped a hand across her blotchy face. “Come here,” he whispered, wrapping his arms tight around her.

Three weeks passed. No more than a ‘Good morning’ or ‘Goodnight’ text message each day had passed between them. But today was the day. Standing in her bedroom doorway, Jane looked over her room with a smile. The floor was spotless, the bookcase was tidy and everything for her evening with Peter had been planned to perfection. His favourite movie series lay in a boxset on her desk, his favourite snacks and the drinks that they shared on their first outing together decorated a coffee table at her bedside. A homemade card sat in the centre of her bed, next to the teddy bear that he had won her at a fête.

Brushing a crease from her skirt, Jane bit her bottom lip with a smile. “Perfect,” she told herself, before grabbing her phone and texting Peter. “Happy 458 days xxx,” she wrote, feeling her stomach flutter.

“And a happy 458 days to you too my love xxx,” came his reply.

Jane let out a squeal of excitement, typing, “See you soon? xxx.”

“Sorry love change of plans. Got work. Someone called in sick. Works in my favour though, need to sort out those who stand in the way of promotion. Will be a fun night :).” Her heart froze. She held her breath. A lump clung to her throat. Forcing herself to swallow, Jane threw a hand to her mouth. Her chest jittered. Shaking, she stared down at her phone. It bleeped. “Hope you’re ok. See you next time. Love you xxx.”

“It’s fine,” she lied. “Hope everything goes well. See you in the future xxx.” Pressing ‘Send’ she slid down her bedroom door, feeling the prickling of salty water at her eyes. Hugging her knees, she buried her face as her chest shook.

Pushing herself up off the floor, Jane did not know how long had passed. It was dark. Tugging her curtains closed, she sat at her desk and started up her computer. Opening up a drawer, she brushed the films that she had set aside out of sight. Jane’s fingers trembled as they hovered over the keyboard. With a sniff, she ran a hand across her face. Opening up her email account, she began to type. “Dani, I need you, I just need to talk to my best friend. It’s happened again, Dani. I spent all day planning a nice evening and making a special card and making sure that everything was perfect, for Peter to say that he has work at the last minute and he only told me because I wanted to know if he would be over soon. Was he never going to tell me? Why does he always have work? I know it’s not his fault, it’s just not fair. And I don’t even feel like he cares anymore. I’ll always write to him or send him something between us not seeing each other for weeks and a lot of the time I don’t even get a thank you or an acknowledgement. If I question him all I get is that he’s busy at work or that he’s making that CGI interactive pirate landscape thing for me – but that’s his and Wendy’s thing.

I swear Danielle, sometimes it just feels like everything else means so much more to him than I do. Work comes first, then his housemate Wendy, then their interactive pirate world, then Wendy’s dog Barrie, then his car, then sleeping, then food and if I’m lucky I might come before his coat on the list… no scrap that, he’s in love with his coat more than me too.

I know it sounds like I’m moaning – and I am… it’s just he’s not the same person he was before. He never has time for anything other than work and Wendy… he never seems to want to go on adventures anymore. I can’t even get him to spare five minutes to walk around Kensington Gardens with me. All he cares about is work, getting this stupid promotion and working on that virtual pirate world with her. He’s not Peter anymore… he’s not my Peter. I just want him back the way he was. I love him so much Dani, I really, really, really do, but I’m in love with the Peter I met last year… not the Peter that he is now.”

After hitting ‘Send’ Jane’s stomach spiralled. She pushed her keyboard away. Staring at the wall, she gave a deep exhale. Her fingers shook; she clenched them tight. Her stomach swirled again. Sliding out of her desk, Jane slumped onto her bed. Grabbing her teddy bear, she flopped back against her pillow, stroking her thumb against her furry friend. “You’ll never leave me, will you,” she whispered to her bear.

“Bleep! Bleep!” bleated her computer. Jabbing her elbows into her duvet, she forced herself up. Slipping back into her desk, Jane sat her bear on her lap. She had a new message. It was from Dani: “Oh Janey, I know you must be terribly upset, but everything’ll be okay. You know Peter loves you. I know he does.” Jane threw a hand to her stomach; it felt like a brick had just dropped inside her. She sniffed, grabbed the keyboard and began typing.

“Sorry Dani… you’re right,” Jane confessed. “I’m just a mess. I guess I just worked myself up from having not seen Peter for ages and I’d put so much effort into tonight. I just feel like I’ve been tossed to the ground like a hat.” Her trembling fingers raced across the keyboard. Her heart raged inside her ribcage. Finishing her message, she squeezed her bear tight, pressing her cheek into its fur. Her thumb stoked its side, as her eyes dampened its head. Closing her eyes, she pressed her lips to the bear’s ear. Her computer bleeped again. Dani had replied.

“I don’t want you defending him. He can’t act like spending tonight with you meant nothing,” Dani raged. “I can’t begin to imagine how upset you must be. That was beyond insensitive of him. I just didn’t want you saying something you didn’t truly mean – a spur of the moment hatred you might later regret.”

“I know,” Jane typed with a sigh. “I love him so much Dani, I really, really, really do.” Her heart raced louder. Faster. She pressed a hand to chest. “But sometimes… I just feel like I mean nothing to him.” The raging stopped. She exhaled a deep breath. Lying to the left of her keyboard was her phone. She stared. Her hand hovered towards it. Lips parted, she hesitated. Her chest jittered. Her hand shook. “Oh Peter…” she murmured, bringing her hand back to her bear.

“Remember from uni, Show-Don’t-Tell?” was Dani’s next message. Jane and Danielle had met at university, studying Creative Writing. Show-Don’t-Tell was drilled into them as the most important thing in any piece of writing. “You can only say, ‘I love you,’ so many times, Jane. He needs to show you.”

“Don’t say that!” Jane snapped back with a gasp, squeezing her bear tight. “He does love me.” She pulled her bear up to her chest, pressing it against her shaking ribcage. “He does love me,” she whispered. “He does.”

A splodge of water dampened the bear’s head, as Dani’s reply appeared: “Yes, but he needs to show you more. If John did to me what Peter does to you, I think I’d go mad. I understand that you both have to work, but there’s a difference between spending time with someone and dropping a text message once a day just to make sure you’re not dead. If he loves you, he needs to show it.”

*

Arriving home from work, Jane tossed her bag on the floor and threw herself on her bed. Kicking her shoes off, she tugged off her work t-shirt and glanced at her watch. It was half-past-five. Her eyes widened; she still had time. Grabbing her bag, she dug her hand inside and rummaged around. She found it. Pulling out her purse, she unzipped it, dropping the change onto her bed. Her shoulder’s drooped as she sighed. “Not enough,” she muttered. Her phone bleeped. Scrambling to her desk, Jane unlocked her phone. It was a message from Peter. He had just returned home from work too. “I’m sorry,” she replied. “I don’t have enough bus fare. If I did I’d come over and see you. I don’t get paid until tomorrow :( xxx.” Jabbing her toe at a feather on her carpet, Jane felt her heart race as she waited for a reply.

“Hey don’t worry. It was sweet of you to offer xxx,” Peter told her.

Staring at the screen, she forced a swallow. She sniffed, clawing her hair from her face. Perching herself on the edge of her desk, Jane texted back, “I’m sorry xxx,” prodding her feet on her chair. She pressed a hand to her forehead, feeling her stomach tremble.

“Don’t be,” Peter replied. “The thought was there and I know you would if you could xxx.”

Throwing herself back on her bed, Jane dropped her phone on her pillow. Her chest tightened. She pressed the back of her hand against her nose, as she sniffed. Her stomach spiralled. “So why won’t you come and see me?” she murmured. Throwing a hand behind herself, she grabbed out for her bear and hugged him near. ‘Dani’s right,’ she realised, burying her head in the covers, away from the light. ‘Everything he says is just words. He’s free right now. I’m free right now.’ Clenching her fist, Jane dug her nails into her palm. ‘It’s been over three weeks.’ Her voice-box squeaked as she sniffled. ‘If you love me, don’t tell me, show me.’

Clawing her phone, Jane threw herself upright and drove her fingers into the buttons on her phone. “Have you ever watched ‘My Fair Lady’?” Jane asked. “There’s a song called ‘Show Me’. It made me think of you xxx.” Her pulse pounded at her temples. ‘This has to be it,’ she told herself. ‘He has to realise what I mean.’ Her heart fluttered, as her phone bleeped.

Peter replied, “Really? I shall have to give it a listen one day xxx.”

Jane’s blood lathered. Her heart raced faster. Louder. She threw her phone at her pillow. Pulse thundered at her temples. Clenching her fists, Jane scrunched up her eyes and shoved her face into her pillow. Her chest tremored against the sheets. Her pillow dampened. Her cheeks were wet; her eyes red. ‘He doesn’t want to see me,’ she thought with a sniff. “I guess it’ll be three more weeks,” she muttered aloud. Taking a deep breath, she reached out for her phone. “I hope you have a nice afternoon/evening/night. I love you Peter xxx.”

“Hey, don’t go,” her phone bleeped before she had cleared the screen. It was Peter again. “Do you still have Friday off? Xxx.”

“Yes… xxx,” she hesitated, feeling her heart race again.

“I’m owed for going in the other night? Do you want to spend the afternoon together? Xxx,” Peter asked.

“Maybe xxx,” Jane typed as her mouth poked up in one corner.

“Maybe? Xxx.”

“I don’t want you to say yes, in case plans change,” Jane confessed.

“They won’t. Promise xxx”

*

Jane’s heart fluttered all morning. It was Friday and Peter had promised her an afternoon together. She had gone back and forth to the bathroom mirror countless times to check how she looked. Her hair, her clothes, her makeup. She had to be perfect. Everything had to be perfect. The doorbell rang. Peter arrived and swept her away – at least that is what she had hoped for. As Peter drove, he droned on about work all the way. “I’m getting so close now, I can feel it,” Peter told her. “I got rid of two guys last night. That’s two less in the way of this promotion now. And d’you want to know the best bit?” It did not matter whether Jane responded. Peter went on and on and on anyway. Her heart sank to her stomach, as she gazed out of the window. Her vision blurred. Pressing her hands into the seat, Jane adjusted her posture. “I’ve just gotta blast these last few outta the water and boom,” Peter carried on. “I’ll be in charge in no time.”

“So where are we going?” Jane asked. She needed a new topic. Any topic. Hearing Peter pipe on about destroying the careers of others was lathering away in her stomach. Scrunching her nose at the thought, she curled a piece of hair behind her ear.

“Going?” Peter’s surprised tone made her flinch. “We’re going to mine. Why?” Jane shrugged, although she knew Peter could not see.

“Last time you promised you’d take me to the Sea-Life Sanctuary,” she sighed, forcing a smile as she rubbed a hand across the back of her neck. Peter’s shoulders deflated. “Don’t worry,” she said with a laugh to her voice.  “It’s fine. Really,” she smiled, rubbing a hand on his shoulder. “I just want to spend time with you,” she added with a giggle. “We could be sat out on a park bench in the freezing rain and I’d still be just as happy to be spending time with you.”

“You’re perfect,” Peter grinned. “Do you know that?”

“I’m not,” she muttered, feeling her cheeks flush. “But thanks.”

Once inside, Peter plonked himself down in front of his computer and turned on the monitor. “I’ve got something I want you t’ see,” Peter beamed. “You’re gonna love it.” Seating herself down on the nearby settee, Jane gave a nervous laugh. The door creaked open. A familiar face bounced out of the kitchen.

“Hey,” smiled Wendy with a nod, entering the room with Barrie not far behind her. “You alright?”

“Hi,” murmured Jane. Lowering her head, Jane stiffened her shoulders as she glanced over in Wendy’s direction. “Yes thanks. Are you?” Forcing her biggest smile, Jane returned her sight to the carpet. Fiddling with a loose strand on her cardigan, Jane flinched as Barrie bounced into view. “Hey,” Jane cooed, as she scratched him behind the ear. “I’ve missed you, Barrie. Yes I have.”

“Barrie’s missed you too,” Peter told her, spinning around in his chair to stroke the black-haired Russian Terrier.

“He has,” Wendy admitted. “After you left last time, he sat in the exact spot you had been in for days.”

“Really?” Jane replied with a laugh.

“Come on then,” Peter grinned at Jane, tapping his lap. “You’ve got a whole new world to explore.” Curling her hair behind her ear, Jane’s cheeks reddened as she perched herself on Peter’s lap. Spinning the chair back around, they faced the computer and Peter got ready to show her his progress. “We’ve done so much since you were last here,” Peter told her, as he wrapped an arm around Jane’s waist. “Haven’t we Wend’?”

“Sure have,” agreed Wendy from the seat beside them. “Hey, show ‘er the ship first.”

“Arr, yeah,” beamed Peter. “This is amazing.” He gave Jane a squeeze as he clicked away on the mouse.

Seagulls sounded. Wind whistled. Waves lashed. The palm trees’ shadows flickered as a cloud drifted past the sun. “The time’s sped up a bit,” Peter explained as the sandy bank before her grew dark. As Peter clicked, a scruffy haired man with stubbled face and a torn, dirtied doublet hobbled across the terrain. Rocky cliff faces lined the edges of the land. Wooden debris, rocks and seaweed littered the man’s trail. “Wait ‘til you see this,” Peter told her and kissed her ear. Jane squirmed, letting out a giggle. As the limping buccaneer shuffled across the screen, a wooden frame came into view. Tripled masted, double decked, at least forty guns and mounted upon the ship’s bow, a wolf figurehead snarled at its nearing victims.

“Wow,” Jane gasped. “That’s… wow. It’s amazing.”

“I thought you’d like it,” Peter said, as he pressed his lips against her ear once more. Jane wriggled away from him, giggling.

“And you two made all this.” Jane’s lips remained parted while Peter clicked their adventurer around the map for further exploration. He nuzzled his face against her hair, rubbing a hand up her arm.

“Just wait ‘til you see the interactions,” Peter beamed.

Moving on into the next area, Peter and Wendy’s pirate clambered through trees, swampy land and sandy pits, slicing his sword at anything that crossed his path. Every human encounter involved a babble of foul language, a handful of threats and always resulted in a blooded battle. Any animals they came across were instantly slaughtered. Jane flinched on numerous occasions, resulting in Peter caressing her arm with a little chuckle. Jane shuddered, holding hand to her mouth. It was graphic – often a little too graphic. These torturous tales seemed very unlike Peter; some of the crimes they entailed scarred the back of her mind.

After the tour of the virtual pirate world, Peter decided it was time for another game. Jane had returned to the settee and was rummaging around in her bag for a notebook and pen. “Continuing the theme of murder, how’s about a game of ‘Cluedo’?” Peter suggested. “You liked that last time?” Peter stood over Jane with raised eyebrows awaiting an answer. This was no statement, but a question. She hummed in reply, nodding her head. “Good,” Peter breathed and set about clearing the table to place the game on. “You’re playing too Wend’,” Peter called over his shoulder as he dragged his chair closer to the table. Barrie gave a whimper at the disturbance, leapt up onto the settee and snuggled his snout on Jane’s lap.

“Awesome,” replied Wendy, bouncing up from her chair. Finding a small stool, she swiped it up, placing it beside Peter.

Stiffening her shoulders, Jane lowered her head. Running a thumb over Barrie’s fur, her mouth poked up in one corner as she looked down at him. Jane liked Wendy, she really did, but Peter had to include her in everything. She knew Wendy was Peter’s best friend and that was all they were, just friends, but Jane was yet to feel comfortable around her.

Within a couple of minutes, Peter already seemed to have the upper hand of the game. “Killing is thirsty work. I’m gonna make a cuppa,” he announced jumping up from his seat, after discovering that Wendy held Reverend Green’s card, the Conservatory and the Lounge cards and Jane held the Candlestick and the card of her own character, Miss Scarlett.

“Could ya grab my orange juice from the fridge while you’re in there?” Wendy called.

“Lazy cow,” Peter retorted. Jane’s eyes widened as she threw a hand to her mouth.

“Fine,” Wendy sighed, rolling her eyes. “I’ll get it myself.”

“You know I’m joking,” he told her. “Glass or mug?” he called from the kitchen.

“Just give me the bottle – it’s fine,” Wendy replied. Placing her heel on the edge of the stool, Wendy leant an arm against her bent knee.

Waiting for Peter to return, Jane stared at the tear in Wendy’s purple, skinny jeans. She frowned. It was a pre-made tear. ‘Why would anyone want to buy ripped clothes?’ she wondered. Wendy’s layered brown bob spiked out at all angles – ‘Only Wendy could pull that off,’ Jane mused. Wendy always seemed to be wearing some band t-shirt from artists Jane had never heard of. Today she sported a pastel blue ‘Mermaid Lagoon’ top, with many beaded bracelets on her wrist. Jane watched them clatter together as Wendy scrolled through her phone.

“Miss me?” sang Peter, leaning around Wendy to place her juice on the table, before plonking himself back in his chair.

“Arh, thank you kind sir,” Wendy laughed as she rubbed a hand on his knee.

“And you are most welcome, fair maiden,” Peter played along. “What would one do without your trusted companion to fetch you beverages from the far away world of the kitchen?” The three of them burst out laughing. Jane was first to stop, noticing Wendy return her hand to Peter’s knee. Her heart leapt. His hand lay on hers for a second, before cupping both hands to his mug. Shooting her eyes down to Barrie, Jane focused on fussing the furry pooch.

Their game came to an end. Peter won. Jane kind of let him. Seeing his beaming grin fluttered butterflies in her stomach. Peter pushed the game to one side and slid into the space beside Jane on the settee. Barrie whimpered, before bouncing off and onto Wendy’s chair. Scooping a hand beneath Jane’s knees, Peter clasped his arm behind her, pulling her onto his lap. Hugging an arm to his chest, Jane leant against him giggling. Feeling her cheeks turn red, she pressed a hand to her face. Peter planted several kisses on her cheek before asking, “D’you wanna watch a film?”

Jane shrugged, “Okay,” and let out another giggle.

“Come on then,” Peter sang as he stood up. Jane squealed in protest of being carried, so Peter let her down.

Entering Peter’s room, he closed the door behind them, before rustling bags about on his desk. With one hand behind his back, Peter sat on the edge of his bed and padded the empty space beside him. “Come on,” he smiled with his biggest grin. “I’ve got you something.”

“Really?” Jane gasped. “But why?” Peter shrugged.

“Felt like it. Now close your eyes,” he told her. “And hold your hands out.” Jane did as she was told. A smooth, light object slid into her hands. “Okay… open them.” Gasping, Jane’s eyes widened at the DVD in her hands. It was ‘Hook’ – a film that they had spent hours talking about the last time that she and Peter had spent the evening together.

“Oh Peter,” Jane beamed. “How did you manage to get this? How did you know? How-” her voice trailed as her wide eyes sparkled at Peter’s. She threw her arms around him. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“See, I do listen,” he said stroking her hair.

“It’s perfect.” Leaning out of their embrace, she and Peter kissed. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” confessed Peter, breaking away from another kiss. “Let’s put it on.”

After switching on his television and loading up the film, Peter and Jane made themselves comfy. Unbuttoning her cardigan, Jane removed it, using it as a pillow to cushion her head against the bed’s headboard. As the film advertisements played, Peter pulled Jane into an embrace. “Come here you,” he laughed as he tugged her towards him. She giggled wrapping her arms behind his neck. Inhaling against her ear, Peter confessed, “I’ve missed you,” as he rubbed his hands up and down her back.

“I’ve missed you too,” she replied, feeling her back tingle from his touch. Leaning out of their embrace, Peter pressed his lips against hers. He stoked her face. She kissed him back. He rubbed her arm. She ran her hands through his hair.

“I’ve missed you more,” he smiled between kisses.

“I’ve missed you most,” Jane giggled, pulling away from him. Peter edged closer, brushing a hand on her thigh. He gave a little hum.

“Maybe I’ll let you win,” he told her, kissing her neck.

“Maybe? What do I have to do to earn the victory?”

“I don’t know,” answered Peter with a grin. Sliding his hand under her t-shirt, he gripped her waist. “I’ll have to think about it.” He pulled her against him. Their lips met. His hand stroked her skin. She shuddered as his touch fluttered her stomach. She returned her fingers to his hair. He groaned into a kiss. She moaned back as his fingers traced across her stomach. He kissed her harder. She tugged his hair. The tips of his fingers slipped under the waistline of her trousers. He kissed her neck. She giggled, twirling her fingers through his hair. Tugging her t-shirt, he kissed along her collar bone. She brushed a knee against his. His kisses returned to her neck. Her ear. Her cheek. Her lips. She pulled his shirt. His fingers pressed against the elastic of her underwear.

“No, Peter,” she murmured, shaking her head as she pushed him away. “Don’t…”

“What’s wrong?” Wide-eyed, he held his hands up in surrender. Staring at Jane, his brow furrowed as he awaited her explanation.

“Nothing,” Jane sniffed, shaking her head again. “I just… want a cuddle.” Sitting up, she pulled her knees towards her chest and hugged them. “Just a cuddle,” she repeated nodding, before Peter could question her further.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. Although Peter’s smile was big, his brow wrinkled. Pinching her eyes, Jane blinked several times, turning her vision to the pillow. “Come here,” Peter’s soft tone poked a smile into the corner of her mouth. He stretched an arm out and Jane rested her head against his chest.

Peter felt her shake as he held her near. Stroking a hand across her back, he kissed the top of her head. “It’s okay,” he repeated. “Everything’s okay.” As her breathing steadied, Peter ran a hand through Jane’s hair. “You know, you worry me sometimes,” he told her.

“I’m sorry,” she squeaked, rubbing her eye.

“Don’t be,” he smirked. “I just want you to know that you can talk to me… if anything’s bothering you, I’m right here. I’m always here.” Curling her hair away from her face, Peter tried to catch her eye. “It doesn’t have to be now,” he went on, “I mean, you can tell me if you want to, or you can text me or email me… or write to me even, if you’d prefer – whatever you’re comfortable with I’m always here for you.” With a sniff, Jane smiled.

“Thank you,” she murmured, tugging on his green hoodie. With a shaky breath, she relaxed her shoulders and draped an arm over Peter’s side, tucking her fingers underneath him. She hummed against him, snuggling her head into his chest.

“Well, you know, within reason,” added Peter, stretching his arms out behind his head. “If I’m asleep or at work or I’m busy, then, you know, maybe not straight away, but I am here for you.” Jane’s smile dropped. She held her breath. Digging her one elbow into the bed, she retracted her other arm from Peter and shuffled up to sit.

As the film played, they both commented on parts they remembered from their childhood and things that they recalled differently. Jane had returned to snuggling up against Peter. Resting her head against his chest, he wrapped his arm around her. “I always found the mermaid scene odd,” Jane declared. Peter hummed. “I don’t get the point of it at all. It-” Something growled. Jane froze. She held her breath. She heard it again. Shuffling, she looked up at Peter. His eyes were closed. His lips lay apart. His chest rose. The roaring sounded again. Slipping out from his grip, Jane looked back at him shaking her head. “Am I that boring?” she sniffed. “You haven’t seen me for four weeks.” Peter snored again. “And then you fall asleep… again.” Her chest shook. Holding a hand to her mouth, Jane tried to hide her shaky breathing. Moving the arm he had wrapped around Jane moments earlier, Peter scratched his chest, before rolling over onto his side. Staring at his back, Jane’s vision blurred.

Pushing herself off the bed, Jane grabbed her cardigan. Her voice-box squeaked as her shallow breaths grew faster. Fastening her buttons, Jane turned to the window. The rain lashed down. Her tears mimicked droplets on the window. She squeaked again, clasping a hand to her mouth. Her heart shuddered at her chest. ‘You only wanted me for one thing,’ Jane realised as images of Peter and sensations of his touch crept into her mind. Through the darkness, she spotted a white and ginger cat hiding beneath a car. She hugged her arms around herself, pinching her nails in to her sides. ‘You didn’t get what you wanted, so you lost interest.’ Jane wheezed, as the pace of her breathing brought a lump to her throat. ‘You fell asleep’.

Gazing at the scared feline, Jane’s breathing slowed. Thunder rumbled. The storm grew fierce. Rain splashed inches off the ground. Peter’s snores softened as he rolled onto his back. Her chest shaking, Jane concentrated on the creases in the duvet, determined not to wake him. ‘You know what you need,’ she thought, her pulse trembling at her temples, ‘A very loyal cat.’ Glancing back out the window, the tail of the white and ginger cat shot out from under the car, feeling the rain. Watching the wafting tail Jane’s chest shuddered. ‘It’ll be there for you when you want it.’ She pinched her sides tighter. ‘And it can entertain itself when you’re not interested.’

Turning to Peter, Jane sensed another squeak erupt from her throat. She threw a hand to her mouth, pinching her eyes tight. ‘That’s it,’ her brain blustered. ‘All you need is a pet… and a prostitute.’ Throwing herself against the window ledge, Jane buried her face in the crook of her arm. Snivelling, her chest slowed as the rhythmical rattle of the rain patted against the glass. With a deep inhale, a scent engulfed her. It was Peter. His scent lingered on her.

As Jane lifted her head, the cat was gone. Peter snored again. A tremble trailed down her arm. The corner of her left eye tingled. Gripping the cuffs of her cardigan, Jane pressed them to her eyes. “I love you,” she whispered, shaking. Her voice-box squeaked again. ‘I can’t stay here,’ she told herself. ‘I can’t’.

The door to Peter’s bedroom creaked. Shooting her head around, Jane checked that she had not woken him. Having rolled back on his side, Peter growled away. Jane pressed the back of her fingers against her cheeks. Entering the living room, Jane and Wendy exchanged glances. “You alright?” Wendy muttered, returning her attention to her monitor.

“Yeah,” Jane mumbled back. Kneeling against the settee, Jane stretched over the arm for her shoes, jacket and bag. She threw the jacket over her shoulders and squatted on the ground to tie her laces. Sniffing, she lifted the flap of her satchel to rummage for a tissue. ‘Oh no,’ she thought as her hand brushed against her purse. ‘I didn’t go to the bank.’ Her heart thumped. ‘I can’t get the bus.’ It thumped again. Her shoulders drooped. She flopped back. Her stomach bounced her insides up to her chest as her breathing grew faster.

Papers wafted to the ground. “Sorry,” Wendy muttered as she caused destruction to her desk. Knocking over a mug of milk, she cursed before clambering into the kitchen. As a whimper escaped her mouth, Jane wiped her nose on the back of her hand. Jane’s eyes shot to the door. She had to move before Wendy came back and spotted her. Hearing Wendy clattering cupboard drawers, Jane shoved her arms into her jacket sleeves, grabbed the handle of her bag and bounced up. Bolting into the hallway, she pressed down on the door handle to Peter’s room.

The door creaked. With a groan, Peter stretched his arms over his head. “Sorry Jane,” he mumbled. Scrunching his eyes, Peter pushed himself up to sit. Lowering her sight from him, Jane returned to her spot at the windowsill. Clawing the cuffs of her jacket, Jane dug her elbows into her waist and pressed herself against the wall. She sniffed, watching water droplets trail down the glass. “Are you okay?” Peter asked. With another sniff, Jane twisted herself away from him. “Hey…” he whispered. Crawling across the bed Peter placed a hand on her shoulder. Jane jerked it away. “Jane,” he gasped. Peter pushed himself up and stood behind her. “I’m sorry I fell asleep – you know that’s not my usual thing.” Jane knew he was referring to the film, not the nap.

“It’s okay,” she squeaked, scanning the land outside for the white and ginger cat. Peter slipped his hands around Jane’s waist. Her chest shook against him. Throwing a hand to her face, tears streamed.

“What’s wrong?” Peter asked, pressing his cheek against hers. “You can tell me.” Leaning away from Peter, she shook her head. “Please Jane, what’s wrong?” Tightening his grip around her, Peter kissed the top of her head.

“I wanna go home,” she sniffled. Unwrapping his arms from her, Peter rested his hands on Jane’s shoulders.

“Okay, if you’re sure.” He rubbed his hands up and down her arms. Lowering her head, Jane turned around.

“I am.”

Half an hour later, Peter pulled up in Jane’s driveway. Apart from her sniffles, she remained quiet for the entire journey. “Come here,” Peter whispered, holding an arm out for her. Jane leant towards him, pressing her face into his shoulder. Her hands remained at her sides. Peter kissed the top of her head. “Everything’s going to be alright, okay?” he assured her, rubbing a hand up and down her arm. “I’m here… I’ll always be here.”

“You won’t though,” Jane cried, pushing Peter away. “You never are.”

“Hey, that’s not true,” Peter told her, placing a hand on her knee. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” snivelled Jane. “But I fell in love with a playful Peter who always wanted to have fun, go on adventures together and who promised he’d never grow up… but you’re not him.” Turning away from him, she opened the car door. Peter grabbed her arm. Shaking his hand away, Jane’s blotchy face stared into his eyes. “Peter, you’ve become a pirate.” Throwing a hand to her face, Jane slammed the car door. Eyes teary, her vision blurred. Running to her house, Jane drove her hand into her back for her keys. Squinting, she whispered to herself. “Don’t look back.”

*

Overnight, Peter left several messages on Jane’s phone. She ignored them. After switching off her alarm, a bleeping on her phone startled her. She gasped, grabbing it from her bedside. It was another text from Peter: “Morning Tink. Hope you are feeling better today x.” She blinked as her eyes stung. Turning her phone over, she hid the screen from herself. A tear twinkled from her eye.

‘Feeling better?’ the thought raged inside of her. Her cheeks heated up. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Her hands balled into fists. ‘There is nothing to feel better over. He can’t just call me Tink and expect me to forget about everything.’ Scrambling to her desk, she dragged open a drawer. Digging out a notebook and pen, Jane began scribbling away.

“Dear Peter,

It has been so lovely and so magical to have been able to spend the last four hundred and sixty three days with you. You have made me feel emotions that I never knew existed before. I have been so happy and felt so loved with you. I can honestly say, hand on heart, that I have fallen in love with Peter. There’s just one problem… I’m in love with the Peter that I met back in Kensington Gardens, last year. I’m in love with the guy who loved going on walks for the fun of it, who would sneak Barrie away from Wendy just to meet me in the park, the guy who wanted to explore and who always wanted more. But you’re not him. You’ve changed. You spend your days off work locked away in your house with Wendy. You only talk about work and how you slaughter the careers of everyone else. You’ve grown into a power-hungry monster. But most importantly… you’ve grown up.

I love you Peter. I am one thousand percent in love with you… just not the you that you have become. I no longer look forward to spending time with you. I worry how long it will be before I get upset in your presence. That shouldn’t happen, Peter. It’s not right. It’s not normal. I’m scared to spend time with you. Don’t think that writing this comes easy to me, Peter – it doesn’t. I’m upset. I’m scared. I’m absolutely terrified. Meeting you was the best thing that has ever happened to me. I’ll never ever stop loving you… just not the you that you are now.

I promise to always look back on the times that we have spent together with fond memories. You were my first, my one, my only love. I will never forget you, Peter.

Jane.”

Tears splodged the paper. Jane gripped her stomach as she put down her pen. Rummaging through a drawer, she found an envelope and scribbled Peter’s name.

*

Apart from pleasantries between her colleagues and customers, Jane refused to speak to anyone all morning. She sat by herself at lunch, tracing over and over the same circle that she had drawn ten minutes ago. Her phone vibrated. Her heart leapt as she stared at it. It vibrated again. Swiping her phone, she held it at her lap, under the table. It was a message from Peter. “I’ve got to work a night shift tonight. Any chance I can stop by yours before work? Please let me know you’re ok. I’m worried about you xxx.” Her heart shuddered as her fingers hovered over the keypad.

*

Lights appeared in her driveway. Peter was outside. Slipping the letter that she had written earlier that morning in her inner jacket pocket, Jane gripped her cuffs tight and made her way outside. Opening his car door, Jane dropped into the passenger seat and stared at the dust on the dashboard. “Hey, I thought I’d stop by before work to make sure you’re okay,” Peter told her. “I’ve been worried about you.”

“You shouldn’t be,” Jane mumbled.

“I know, but I don’t like thinking of you as unhappy.” Peter reached an arm around Jane’s shoulder. She squirmed away. “Okay,” he whispered.

“I don’t like thinking of you unhappy either,” she squeaked, still keeping her gaze with the car. Sniffing, she rubbed a hand to her eye.

“I know,” Peter sighed. “But I’m far, far from it. I have you and Wendy to thank for that.” Peter cupped a hand over Jane’s. Tugging her hand away Jane shot him a glare. “She saved me a long time ago, you know,” Peter went on, oblivious to Jane’s scowl. Sniffing, Jane slid her hand into her jacket and pulled out the envelope.

“Here,” she whispered, handing it to him. Peter beamed at her.

“I’ll read it when I get back from work in the morning,” he promised. “I’ll text you to let you know how it goes when I get back. I dare-say you’ll be stirring then.” Jane shuffled, shifting her weight away from him. Glancing at the clock on his dashboard, Peter let out a sigh. “Five minutes is up. I’ve gotta go.”

“Bye Peter,” Jane cried, throwing her arms around him. “I love you.” Scrunching her eyes, she squeezed him tight.

“I love you too.”

Jane lay staring at her alarm clock. She had done so most of the night. Fifteen minutes still remained before her alarm would ring. Her chest tightened. Her spiralling stomach knotted. Her pillow lay smudged and damp. Rattling against her bedside table, the screen of her phone flashed. Her heart leapt into her throat. It was a message from Peter:  “Morning. I thought work was tough, but your letter punched me in the gut. Tell me you didn’t mean it. I love you Jane xxx.”

Letting out a whimper, Jane typed, “Sorry. I do. You’re not the same Peter anymore. You’re always so busy and never have time for anything x.”

“That’s all a part of growing up xxx,” Peter told her. Her stomach heaved up into her lungs.

Gripping her bear, Jane’s fingers shook over the keypad, “I thought we promised we never would… xxx.” She pressed the bear to her chest, squeezing tight, as she murmured various squeaks.

Her phone flickered. Peter had replied. “Somethings in life mean you have to xxx.”

A tear trickled down Jane’s cheek, as he told him, “But what if I’m not ready to grow up? xxx.”

“Then I’ll wait for you my love :) Xxxxxxxxxx.”

“Oh Peter,” Jane whimpered to herself. Rubbing a hand across her blotchy face, Jane sobbed replying, “You can’t. You’re not the Peter I fell in love with.” Holding her stomach, Jane waited and waited for a response. Her alarm sounded. Switching it off, she flopped back against her pillow. Her phone vibrated.

“You’re breaking my heart,” Peter declared. “Please don’t say that. I love you Jane. You mean everything to me xxx.”

“My heart’s already broken,” was Jane’s robotic response.

“Don’t say that xxxxx,” Peter snapped.

Holding a hand to her mouth, Jane wrote, “It’s over.” Turning of her phone off, Jane let it drop to the floor.

- Josie -

Confessions of a Waitress: Part 3 of 3

(Josie Sayz: Okay, so this is my final part of my ‘Confessions of a Waitress’ mini-series. As with the previous two, all of these things happen on a regular basis. And if you missed the previous two, you can find ‘Confessions of a Waitress: Part 1 of 3’ here: https://josiesayz.blogspot.co.uk/2016/12/confessions-of-waitress-part-1-of-3.html and ‘Confessions of a Waitress: Part 2 of 3’ here: https://josiesayz.blogspot.co.uk/2016/12/confessions-of-waitress-part-2-of-3.html. As with the previous entries, the restaurant’s name has been changed to ‘Fin Finish’. I hope that you think twice about doing some of the things on these lists after reading them.)

Phoning up the restaurant to ask, “Are you open today?” The following happens daily: A customer phones up the restaurant. I answer the phone, “Good afternoon, ‘Fin Finish’ Shirley. How can I help?” To which we get instantly asked, “Are you open today?” Seriously, this is getting irritating now. Rather than wasting money/credit/minutes phoning up, just look online. Just type in the restaurant’s name into a search engine. Our website will be the first thing that pops up. ‘Fin Finish’ is open seven days a week. So, are you still wondering, “Are you open today?” You know what: No, I decided to come into work on my day off and open up the restaurant and waste the electricity/heating to just sit here all day beside the phone just in case it happens to ring, so that I can tell people that we are not open… of course we are open. We are open every day (except for Christmas Day) and you have just wasted my time with a stupid question when I could have been serving customers or taking drinks to a table, or relaying a table for waiting customers, or running food to a table before it goes cold, or clearing up a spillage before somebody slips, but no… you want to know if we are open.

Not listening to our reply when you ask, “Are you open today?” I understand that it may be confusing during the holiday seasons to know if your favourite place is going to be open or if there are reduced opening hours. We expect this, especially around Easter, Christmas and New Year, which is why during these time periods we answer the telephone as follows: “Good afternoon, ‘Fin Finish’ Shirley. We’re open 12pm until 10pm every day of the year, except Christmas Day. How can I help?” Why is that so difficult for over three-quarters of ringing customers to understand? Listen. Just listen and we will have answered most people’s questions. That way, you can avoid this:
Me: “Good afternoon, ‘Fin Finish’ Shirley. We’re open 12pm until 10pm every day of the year, except Christmas Day. How can I help?”
Customer: “Are you open?”
Me: “We’re open 12pm until 10pm every day of the year, except Christmas Day.”
Customer: “Yes, but are you open today?”
Me: “Yes… we are open.”
Customer: “When?”
Me: “We’re open 12pm until 10pm every day of the year, except Christmas Day.”
Customer: “So you’re open now?”
Me: “Yes.”
Customer: “And what time do you close.”
Me: “Ten.”
Customer: “And you are ‘Fin Finish’, the one in Shirley, right?”
Me: “Yes.”
Customer: “Okay – we might pop in tomorrow.”
And after all that, why on Earth would you then decide to come tomorrow instead? Why? What was the point of all of that? This is genuinely 75% of the constant phone calls every holiday season.

Another common phone conversation example of customers not listening. When you phone up the restaurant, we always answer with, “Good afternoon, ‘Fin Finish’, Shirley. How can I help?” We say ‘Shirley’ to let you know that you are through to the restaurant in the Shirley area, not one of our sister-restaurants (you will be surprised how often people phone the wrong restaurant and even reserve tables at the wrong restaurant through not listening to us when we answer the phone). Yet, this conversation happens far too often:
Me: “Good afternoon, ‘Fin Finish’, Shirley. How can I help?”
Customer: “Hello there Shirley…”
Me: “My name’s not Shirley. This is the restaurant in the Shirley area.”
Customer: “Yes Shirley, I would like to book a table…”

Trying to manipulate us into reserving you a table on non-reservation days. On days where all of the main meals are half price, the restaurant does not take reservations. The only time when a reservation will be accepted is if it were for a party of twenty or more, because this would take prior planning and organisation. To any group smaller than twenty, it is a walk-in service. Okay, so this particular example only happened to me once, but we get similar excuses every single day.
Me: “Sorry, we don’t take bookings on half price days, unless it’s a party of twenty or more.”
Customer: “But I’m bringing my elderly mother. She’s never been before.”
Me: “Sorry, but we don’t take booking on half price days, unless it’s a huge booking.”
Customer: “But my mum’s got cancer.”
Me: “… Sorry… but we still can’t take bookings unless it’s for a big party.”
Never use an illness to get you things. Rules are rules. I am terribly sorry for your situation, of course I am, but you should not be using your mother’s illness to get you something as petty as a table at a restaurant. This is just wrong.

Asking to come in before we open. It clearly states on three billboard signs in the carpark and the hanging sign as you enter the carpark that we open 12pm-10pm seven days a week. Staff members start work at 10:30am to sweep, disinfect and mop the floor and to set up the restaurant before opening. The insurance police does not permit customers being in the building before or after our opening times. The following conversation takes place most mornings when customers spot us inside the restaurant, cleaning before we open:
Customer: “Are you open?”
Me: “Sorry, not yet. We don’t open until 12.”
Customer: “But you’re working.”
Me: “Yes, I’m cleaning and setting up ready for when we open.”
Customer: “Can we come in then?”
Me: “No; we don’t open until 12.”
Customer: “Yes, but it’s cold outside and you’re already working.”
Me: *gets manager*
Manager: “Sorry, we don’t open until 12.”
Customer: “But you’re working.”
Manager: “We’re cleaning.”
Customer: “Can we come in then?”
Manager: “No; we don’t open until 12.”
Customer: “Yes, but it’s cold outside and you’re already working.”
Manager: “Sorry you’ll have to wait.”
Customer: *tries to push past manager*
Manager: “Sorry, you’ll have to wait.” *Locks door and closes all blinds, so you can’t see in and depending on how much you have angered the manager, they may purposely make you wait an extra couple of minutes before unlocking the door, for being so rude.* More than 95% of customers arrive by car anyway, so stay in your warm car and stop acting like it’s a first-come-first-serve-post-Christmas sale.

Asking how long the wait will be for a table on a busy day. Do you not realise how stupid you look, especially when you scream at us, “What do you mean you don’t know?” or shout abuse if we get the waiting time wrong. Okay, think of it this way: how long will it take your whole table to decide on what food to order? Depending on what you order depends how long it takes to cook. Are you going to have starters? If yes, you are going to be in the restaurant a whole lot longer than those who do not. If everyone were to order small cod and chips, the wait for food would be considerable shorter (it takes six minutes for a small cod to cook) compared to if everybody ordered steak pie (which takes fifteen minutes to cook). How long will it take not just you, but your entire table to eat? Will you want anything afterwards? How long will you want to wait after eating to just talk for a bit before ordering desserts or more drinks? What about if you want a drink after the dessert? How long will you want to stay talking after you’re finished? How about after receiving or paying for the bill – how long will you stay talking then? How do you expect us to guess how long it will be until a table becomes available if you do not know how long you are going to be?

Saying we are short staffed, just because the restaurant is busy. Unless the entire area decides to show up at the restaurant on a random day, we always have extra staff in on expected busy day. One night we had nine members of staff working, compared to our usual five and customers were still saying, “What’s wrong, are you short staffed?” because there was a waiting list for tables. No, we are not short staffed. The reason as to why there is a wait is because the majority of tables finished their meals over ten minutes ago, they have just decided to sit and talk afterwards. We cannot make customers leave once they have finished. If all twenty-eight tables wish to sit for three hours, I am afraid that there is nothing I can do. You would not want me to force you out of the door the second that you put your knife and fork down, would you?

When every meal on the menu is half price and you ask for, “Two half price meals.” Which meals? If you are not going to tell me which meal you would like, shall I tell the kitchen to make you whatever we sell the least of or whichever is most expensive? If you do not like it, then it is your fault.

When every meal on the menu is half price and you ask for, “The fish and chips that’s half price.” Everything on the menu is half price. I do work here; otherwise I would not be serving you. You do not have to tell me that it is half price. I am not stupid. Every single Monday and Tuesday every single meal on the menu is half price.

Asking for an offer that ended at 5pm after 5pm. No, you cannot. The offer is valid until 5pm for a reason. It would be like going somewhere on a Wednesday and asking for the ‘Sunday Special’. You cannot have it.

Asking at 6pm for an offer that does not start until 7pm. This is the same as the point above. No. What would the point be of having a start time for a particular offer, if anyone who asked was entitled to it at any time? The answer is no.

Handing me your baby’s dirty nappy. There are bins provided in the toilets and in the baby changing area. The bins are emptied regularly and toilet checks are carried out throughout the day. There has never been a point where all of the available bins have been full – so why do you persistently hand me your baby’s dirty nappy? I cannot place it in the bins with the food, I will have to go into the toilets, where you came from, and put the nappy in the bin that is right beside the baby changing facility. I just do not understand why people would do this? Next time you hand me your baby’s dirty nappy, would you like me to project, “Do you want me to take that back to the toilets and put it in the bin for you?”

After drying your hands on toilet tissue, you dispose of your rubbish in the clean cutlery area. This one gets me angry and it happens so often. I understand that some people dislike using the hand dryers provided in public toilets and you would rather dry your hands on toilet tissue. That is fine, but, please, dispose of your toilet tissue in the many bins provided in the toilets before you leave. Do not, under any circumstance, leave the tissue in the clean cutlery area as you pass by on the way back to your table. All of the cutlery now has to be re-washed and re-polished, this process can take over an hour. Not just that, but a waiter/waitress will have to stop serving tables and has to wash and polish all of that cutlery again, so there will be less staff members serving tables, which will mean that your service is slower for an entire hour… and you did this to yourself.

Finding fingernail clippings on/under the table. This is turning into a weekly find. Why would you go to a restaurant to cut your fingernails and toenails? Brushing them under them table does not make it any better. It’s unhygienic. It’s disgusting. Yet it happens all the time. If anyone can please fill me in on why this is a trending occurrence, I would love to know.

Finding an empty condom packet under the table. Although this is not as regular as the nail clippings, this has happened several times. I do not even want to know why, how or what it was doing under the table; I am just grateful that you took the used content with you.

Only ever writing bad reviews on ‘TripAdvisor’. Seriously, one review read something along the lines of, “We go there every single Monday and have been for the last three years since it opened. But last night was terrible. We had to wait over half an hour for a table, service was slow and it was full of kids.” Well 1) duh, it was a Bank Holiday Monday, of course it’s going to be busy and 2) you gave us a one star review based on one day when you have loved us every single time before, yet you have never given us a good review – not once. If all of the regular customers decided to write a bad review on a busy Bank Holiday but never, ever, ever write a good review, we would lose our reputation and eventually close down. Then you would be asking, “Why are you closing down? You’re ever so good.” And you will get the restaurant shut down; it happened to one of our sister-restaurants. Customers only reviewed the restaurant on a busy day, complaining that it was too full, too noisy, or they had to wait for a table. No one ever reviewed the lovely service or good quality food they received the times before, so the owner closed the restaurant down. Then everyone wondered why it had closed. Write a review every time you receive good service too, not just on the one busy day. Stating in your one star ‘TripAdvisor’ review that every other time you go to the restaurant it is five star, but never writing a five star review, does not count.

- Josie -

Confessions of a Waitress: Part 2 of 3

(Josie Sayz: Here is part two of three of my ‘Confession of a Waitress’ list. As before, these may seem ridiculous to some, but they happen every single day. If you missed ‘Confessions of a Waitress: Part 1 of 3’ you can find it here: https://josiesayz.blogspot.co.uk/2016/12/confessions-of-waitress-part-1-of-3.html. As with 'Part 1', the restaurant's name has been changed to ‘Fin Finish’.)

Ignoring all members of staff when entering the restaurant and sitting yourself down. No one will know that you are there. If the restaurant is incredibly busy, it is often difficult for waiters/waitresses to remember which table we have served and which table we have not. Also, members of staff are often made to take orders from tables in sections of the restaurant that they are not serving in, in order to help our struggling staff members. With various staff members coming and going from a section there is one golden rule that we have to follow to make sure that everyone is served. When a member of staff seats a customer to the table, they give you the menu. When a member of staff serves you, they must take away the menu, so other staff members know that you have been served. If you ignore all staff members and sit yourself down, you will not have a menu and it is highly likely (especially on busy days) that no one will serve you, because as far as they are aware, you have already been served, because you do not have menus.

Ignoring all members of staff when entering the restaurant and sitting yourself down on a reserved table. Not only does this cover the entire point made above, but if someone sat down on your reserved table you would not like it, would you? You would throw a fit, wouldn’t you? Start shouting abuse at the staff, wouldn’t you? Well then don’t do it.

Ignoring all members of staff when entering the restaurant and wandering around mindlessly looking for friends/family. The staff member who stands at the door ready to greet you has already seated the entire occupants of the restaurant. They know of (and have informed the waiter/waitress in specific sections) which tables are waiting for other members to join their party. If you just ask we will have you sat at your table in couple of seconds and you will not be disrupting the rest of the restaurant by pushing past their chairs for no reason.

Moving furniture. If you move a table, it may not seem like a big deal to you, but it is there for a reason. If you are a table of four, you do not move two tables of two together in an area that best suits you. You sit on a table of four, where one is available. If a table of four is not available, you wait. If the owner happens to check the CCTV cameras and sees you have moved a table or a chair and you are sat in my section of the restaurant, well let’s just say it is the last time I will be serving you or anyone. Moving furniture can make your waitress/waiter get sacked.

Pointing at something on the menu and ask if we serve it. This one is just self-explanatory: It would not be on the menu if we did not serve it, would it? Why would we put an item on the menu if we did not serve it? If we had ran out of something I would have told you when I handed you the menu.

Asking if we serve cod and chips. You have just walked into a traditional, British fish and chip restaurant, ‘Fin Finish’. Cod and chips is the first thing on the menu. It is in the largest font on the menu. There is a giant picture of it on the menu. As with the previous point, we serve it as it is on the menu.

Asking what is in a certain meal. You have already been looking over the menu for several minutes, I come over to take your order, you point to something on the menu and then ask, “What’s in that?” or “What does that consist of?” It tells you. The description is right there, next to the dish’s name. So do you know what happen when you ask this question? I will not tell you the answer; I will lean over your shoulder, point to the description and say, “There you are,” smiling to you as sweetly as I can, when really I want to hit you with your menu for wasting my time. You obviously have not read the menu yet, you are not ready to order, so in the future do not call me over to your table unless you are ready to order. I have other customers whom need my time, not just you.

Saying, “I’ve searched all over the menu and I can’t find the plaice. Where is it?” You have read the entire menu several times over and not found the plaice for a reason. We obviously do not sell plaice at this place.

Asking for, “A cheese burger without the cheese.” So you want a burger? A quarter pounder, a beef burger, a plain burger, the scotch-beef-burger-on-a-bun-with-chips if you want to read it precisely from the menu. But under no circumstance do I ever want to hear, “A cheese burger without the cheese.”

Asking if pickled onions are automatically served with fish and chips. No, no they are not. Where have you been where pickled onions automatically came with your fish and chips without having to ask for them? That would not be very wise of a restaurant if people did not like pickled onions, we would be wasting an awful lot of food. Nothing comes with the fish and chips other than fish and chips as it states on the menu. However, just because pickled onions do no automatically appear on your plate that does not mean that you cannot order a side dish of pickled onions.

Asking for things that are not on the menu. ‘Fin Finish’ serves traditional British fish and chips, along with several chicken options and burgers. The menu has been the same since the franchise opened over three years ago. The only thing that has been added to the menu is a hotdog, nothing has been taken away. So why is it that after looking over the menu for five-or-so minutes, when taking a table’s order do I often get asked for duck and egg fried rice? We do not sell it. We have never sold it. Please read the menu before you order.

Asking me where the rest of your order is when my hands are full. I can only carry three plates at a time. In case you cannot picture how this is so, with your dominant hand, you rest the first plate on your none-dominant arm, you place second plate on your none-dominant hand and then you pick the third plate up with your dominant hand. There isn’t anywhere else one can carry another plate. If you have ordered a smaller meal and a small side, I can often squeeze one side bowl on to the edge of the plate. Now you have pictured this task, how can I possibly carry the fourth person on your table’s meal and all side of your side plates and bowls? I am not an octopus, nor am I stupid. I know that not all of you table has their food. I am present at your table. I can see. Not only that, but when I was collecting your food from the kitchen there were more plates and bowls for your table. I will bring them over in the second (and possibly third) journey.

Saying, “That’s not mine.” You ordered cod and chips and a bowl of mushy peas, as I stated in the previous point, I can only carry three plates at a time. You have your cod and chips in front of you. That is what you ordered. I will be back with your bowl of mushy peas when I bring the rest. Never, ever say to your waiter/waitress, “That’s not mine,” if your only problem is that not all of your order has arrived, because you could be left with no meal at all if your server takes the plate back into the kitchen, because you have just told them that it is not yours. Of course, if you have ordered southern fried chicken and chips and you are given cod by mistake, then yes, you can say, “That’s not mine,” and your problem will be sorted in seconds, but if that is your food and you are just waiting for your side bowl of mushy peas to arrive then do yourself a favour and not utter those words.

Asking me for a refill when I have my hands full. Whether you call me over to your table or wave your empty glass in my face as I walk past you, if I am carrying a huge stack of plates what do you expect me to do? Can you not politely wait until I return? What do you expect me to do? Do you want me to grow another arm, leave the other table’s dirty plates on your table while I go and refill your drink or would you rather me drop all of the plates on the floor, leave the smashed mess and go and refill your drink for you? Your drinks are unlimited self-service refills, so rather than wait for me to come back and watch me refill your drink at a refill station that is five paces away (when you are clearly capable of doing so) why not use the self-service drinks machine yourself or just wait until I have my hands free.

Not listening to me. Do not assume that the very first thing your waitress/waiter is going to do after you have finished your meal is to force you into having anything else or desserts. We are not trying to steal your money from you by making you purchase more than you already have – especially if you have been rude or spiteful, we would be happy for you to leave. My job is to make sure that you enjoy your meal and your service. The following conversation happens multiple times an hour every single day, is incredibly irritating and makes your waiter/waitress think that you are an incredibly rude person and will possibly severely dislike you upon your next visit:
Me: “Was everything okay with your meal?”
Customer: “No, just the bill.”
Me: “Why, what was wrong?”
Customer: “Nothing; everything was fine.”
Me: “Would you like anything else?”
Customer: “I already told you no.”

Placing the bill in front of a person on the table does not mean I assume that person is going to play the bill. When you ask for the bill, I will either place the check book in front of the person who asks for it or whoever acknowledges me when I bring it over. If you are a table of eight, how can I possibly place the bill in front of all of you? No matter where I place it, it is still going to be closer to one person. Please do not behave aggressively towards me because of this.

Lying. This could be about anyone or anything. Customers continually lie daily, whether it is to try and claim a free meal, a discount or a coupon, your persistent lying can come with a consequence. There are security cameras everywhere. If you lie and say your waiter/waitress left you sat for ages before seeing to you, it is checked on CCTV. Why? Because you could get your waiter/waitress sacked – if you complain that service is slow, it will be even slower if you get every person who waits on your table sacked for no reason, as there will be no staff left in the restaurant. Please remember that your waiter/waitress is a person too, who needs their job to pay their rent and bills, just like you. How would you like it if I showed up where you work and made up a load of lies about you to try and get free stuff and you got sacked because of it. Think twice next time before you lie. Oh and just to give you a heads up, we recognised persistent complainers and we check your complaints back against CCTV. When you complain a second or third time and then complain again when you do not receive a voucher or a free meal, it is because we have caught you lying on camera.

- Josie -