Third December Drabble

Gilbert worked as a waiter at a local restaurant and was experiencing a particularly boring and long day. His legs and feet were aching from running back and forth, sitting down, standing up, carrying things and bending over. He snorted at the fact that some people though his job sounded glamorous, and they would simply not believe him when he said that it was closer to slave labour than anything else he knew.

With a sigh he saw when two new customers walked in through the front door. Unwillingly and feeling very sorry for himself he swung his body forward on the chair and with a spring in his step jolted up to a standing position and started to glide to the table the new arrivals had sat down at.
“G'day, sir and madam”, he said politely and bowed is head slightly at the man and woman sitting at the table. “Here are your menus, tonight's special is roasted duck with sweet potato, accompanied by a port-wine reduction.”

The waiter expected some kind of acknowledgement from the gentleman whom he had addressed, but the man was simply staring at him, not saying a word. Maybe he wanted something?

“Do you have any questions, sir?”, he asked and looked at the man.

The man then started speaking very fast in a language Gilbert didn't know or recognized.
“I'm sorry?”, he asked as soon as the man fell silent.

The man seemed to repeat a phrase of what he had just said.

“I'm very sorry sir, but I don't understand you, do you know any english?”, he then asked. Feeling furious inside himself that people went into places without even knowing how to say hello, paying, or even point at the dishes in the menu, he could at least work with that!

“One moment”, he then said and held up his palm and then pointed to the kitchens and then he pointed at this own mouth.

The man nodded and watched him go as he took off for the kitchens. Would this day never end?

His workmates in the kitchens weren’t that impressed with him with he asked them if anyone were good with languages, when he even couldn’t guess where the people were from or even micic the language they were speaking they all became rather exasperated with him. At last a chef named Laureen accompanied him out back to the table. She told Gilbert that she spoke 6 languages all in all and would probably have a decent shot at comprehending some of it, if it wasn’t too exotic.

She was right, she later told Gilbert that the couple were lusophones, but that were able to converse the necessities at least. Gilbert had no idea what a lusophone was, he later found out that it means someone who speaks portuguese. Great, now he felt aching, miserable, tired and on top of all that un-educated. Would this day never end?

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Word of the day:

Lusophone
Portuguese-speaking.

Wordcount: 495

Fun factor: 5/5