A lot of things can jog one’s memory. I was reading a few Salon blogs this evening that I’d never read before. One of them, Manhattan Waiter, brought me back to my own service industry days, although flipping burgers and serving up Italian Beef in inner-city Milwaukee is probably quite a bit different than waiting tables in Manhattan. For example. . .
My life was actually threatened once while I was on the job, by a mean-spirited drunk or druggie, who swore he’d follow me home and kill me if I didn’t put an extra slice of cheese on his cheeseburger. As it was always implicit that I could refuse to wait on anyone I found objectionable, I told that guy to hit the bricks. Or maybe I let the boss tell him—it’s not really clear in my mind. All I remember for sure is that he didn’t get his extra cheese.
At the other end of the spectrum, I had a fellow lean over the counter and tell me that I was a fine cook and that he would like to take me home with him and make sweet love to me just like Teddy Pendergrass did to his women.
This particular, very specific come-on was a bit lost on me since, at the time, I didn’t know who Teddy Pendergrass was. I didn’t know he was a “soul seduction master”, right in between Al Greene and Luther Vandross. Still, I probably doled out an extra slice of cheese for this guy, just for his originality—because even if he had used that line a thousand times before, it was new to a Lutheran gal from small-town Minnesota. (Also, this was pre third-wave feminism, so it wouldn't have occurred to me to be offended by the comment.)
My memory thus jogged, I realized tonight, a good 18 years later that I still couldn’t name one Teddy Pendergrass song, so I went to the Itunes Music Store and listened to a few—songs like Tender, Hot Love and Close the Door, all which nearly had me doubled over with laughter. Wow. There is only one sweet thing on the mind of a soul seduction master. Too bad I was such a little ignoramus back in 1986.
11:39:49 PM 
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