The Story Teller

July 12th, 2018 by Ken

I’m partly a journalist and partly a writer, but I’m a complete Story Teller.

As a story teller I’ve learned to never let facts get in the way of a good story.  A good story can often contain fabrications, white lies and stretched truths.

People have been telling stories for millenniums – – around campfires, from traveling minstrels and by way of local cultural outlets.  Good stories keep the listeners interest.

Real facts are often boring.  But a good story contains people you want to know, places you want to go and  adventures you want to undertake.

No story ever told  – no matter how good – has ever been hurt by a little embellishment.

Lets start with a waitress called Carol.   There really was  such a person and her story follows.

The first time I saw Carol she was pouring coffee.  The last time I saw Carol, she was pouring coffee.  It never occurred  to Carol that someone would come into he 10-seat diner and not want a cup of coffee.

I saw her that morning when I came in for breakfast.   I was going to the police department for an interview and felt I needed to eat something before facing the questions and the accusations.

She turned over my cup, filled it up, and said, “What it’ll be honey?”  I ordered a short stack and she left, placed the order with the cook and went on to take care of her customers.

They were all men, and all regulars.  She greeted each one by name, filled up the coffee cup at the seat they always took, and placed their order before they had sat down.  “The usual,” she said, even though the cook was starting to make their breakfast.

She engaged each of the men in conversation, asking about their kids, their jobs and what they were planning to do this coming weekend.   I never heard her ask about their wives, because it was obvious from the way she treated them, that most of them were no longer married.

Carol inquired about their health, smiled when the answer was a positive and frowned when it wasn’t good news.

All the time she kept filling up their coffee cups.

I got engrossed in watching the action.   It was almost like a movie and I was just an observer

I never saw her leave a bill in front of any of her regulars, but they all reached into their wallets and placed an amount on the table before they left.   She trusted them and they responded.

When I finished eating, she came over, put a bill on my table, asked me if I wanted more coffee, said thanks and went back to her regulars..   I left my money – plus on the table and walked out the door.   As I left, I looked back and saw Carol pouring coffee.

 

Posted in The Real News


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