In another life I was a cook at a restaurant in Allentown called Murphy’s—a middling restaurant masquerading as a high-class establishment. (I worked in the kitchen. I saw the shady things that happened there.)
So … I’m working lunch on a Saturday afternoon, it’s the end of the shift and I’m breaking down the steam bar. Mark, the manager, comes into the kitchen and tells me to stop—he just sat a party of two. “One of them is Ned Beatty from the Superman movie.” (This is how I knew Mark was clueless, because, yes Ned Beatty was funny in Superman, but he should have said it was Ned Beatty, from Network.”)
The order came back to the kitchen ten minutes later. A Turkey and Bacon sandwich. I searched in a panic for fresh slices of rye bread, and turkey that wasn’t two days old. Waitresses (and stupid Mark) stood and watched me as I prepared Ned Beatty’s meal, my hands trembling like a twenty-year old boy who didn’t know anything about anything. Which was who I was.
That’s it. That’s the story.
The only footnote I can add is that the sandwich didn’t get sent back to the kitchen, and goddamn Mark the Manager wouldn’t even let me stick my head into the dining room to catch a glimpse of the man who delivered one of the all time great monologues in film history.
Rest In Peace, Ned Beatty.
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