After 38 Years at the Diner, the New Owner Sent Me to the Dish Pit for Being “Too Old,” Then the Regulars Walked In

“The same ones, Walter.”

He smiled.

“Good. I’ll take those.”

Chad also raised prices.

Started charging for coffee refills.

Renamed the Farmer’s Breakfast the Heartland Harvest Plate.

And hired a culinary-school graduate who put fennel in the gravy.

Customers complained.

Some stopped coming.

Chad insisted the changes would attract a new generation.

Then he hired Madison.

***

Madison was nineteen.

A sweet girl who had just finished her first year of community college.

She needed a summer job.

She’d never worked in a diner before.

And I liked her immediately.

When she didn’t understand an old-fashioned breakfast order, I explained it.

When she forgot how someone liked their coffee, I reminded her.

She was trying her best.

But Chad wanted someone younger greeting customers.

And after a few weeks, he decided I belonged in the kitchen.

That first day in the dishwashing room was miserable.

The heat fogged my glasses.

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