Right now, No Doubt’s song Hella Good is on my mind. For some reason, I can’t get the song out of my head. It was a catchy tune popular several years back. I like it because it makes me feel good and think of fun times I had when I was in my mid twenties.
Although the song came on the air many years later, it takes me back to the time I went to a jazz festival with some of my friends. The music was loud, but lively. It put good feelings in me very much like the song Hella Good.
Hella Good uplifts my sprit and makes me feel happy all over. I think back to the first time I saw No Doubt perform the song on a television music awards show. I remember Gwen Stefani and her band mates performing it on stage.
I believe the song was introduced back when I was still working at the buffet restaurant, with it playing in the background. On this day at work, my mind was drifting back and forth from the past to the present, as I thought about decisions I made regarding my life choices. I remembering wishing I had chosen a profession enabling me immediate success, instead of my choice to become a writer landing me working in a buffet restaurant.
On this particular day, things were hectic. The line of customers was out the door. There was a woman who couldn’t make up her mind what she wanted to drink. “I’ll take a Pepsi,” she said.
“We only have Coke products, ma’am,” I said while holding an empty glass in my hand, fidgeting with it while waiting for her reply.
“Well, then I take a Mountain Dew.”
“Is Mello Yellow okay?” I asked, hoping to appease her. I hope this isn’t going to be one of those days. I can’t take anymore badmouthing from customers right now. I’m tired. It’s been a long day. My feet ache. I wish this woman would choose something soon, and stick with her decision. But, it’s obvious she’s doing this deliberately. I hope and pray she won’t be nasty and start yelling at me, I thought.
“I want a Sprite,” she yelled, while lifting up her child and placing him on the rack where the trays are usually placed.
“Ma’am, I wouldn’t advise you to place the child there. That rack isn’t sturdy enough for anything other than the trays which are glided down the line,” I told her while biting my lip.
“My child isn’t heavy. He doesn’t weigh so much that he’ll break it,” she snapped at me, furling her eyebrows.
“It’s also not sanitary. If the Health Department were to come in and see him up there, we’d get in trouble, because it’s not only a health hazard but also a safety issue,” I said in a firm, but calm tone, as I handed her the cup of Sprite.
“I don’t want Sprite. I told you I wanted a cola. Not take this crap, before I throw it in your face,” she grunted as she pushed back towards me.
Grabbing another glass, I filled it with Coke, set it onto the counter and slid it over to her.
Accepting the cup, she took a gulp of the drink. Picked up her child, left the drink on the counter, and the tray on the rack, headed toward the door, and exited the restaurant.
© Copyright, Kiki Stamatiou, 2015