Was a guy named Phil used to come into Denny's everyday. Ordered the same thing. We had a routine, Phil and I, but really it was an extension of a routine that everyone maintained with Phil. You'd see him out in the parking lot, usually parking his bike behind the bushes, out of sight, or pulling up into the handicapped spot in an old Ford. We all tried not to think about the fact that Phil occasionally drove because Phil was lightly retarded, or autistic, or something. Phil was a bit off, anyway, and one of my life's lessons was to learn that taking the extra time for customers like Phil was simply part of the job. This lesson, by the way, was made clear to me by an old battleaxe named Paula who had actually waited on the apostles during the Last Supper. I can see her now, flirting with Jesus, arguing with Thomas about the order and keeping a close eye on Judas.

But I'm getting off track. Phil taught me that taking that extra time was usually worth it. So when you saw him pulling up outside, you'd yell "Phil's Here!" Then everybody else would take up the call. When he finally ambled in we began our routine.

"Coffee, Phil?"

"Yaap"

"Pork chops, Phil?"

"Yaap"

"Hash browns, Phil?"

"Yaap"

"White toast, Phil?"

"Yaap"

"Foot Massage, Phil?"

"Nooooooo, hee, hee, hee!"

This is all a farce. Phil's order was put in as soon as the cooks heard the first "Phil's here!" On a good day, I will have stalled long enough to hear the cook call back "Phil's Up!" and I will turn around and give Phil his order, hot and fresh, right off the line.

Once in a while, a customer would somehow manage to contrive to be annoyed by this, and would complain about the fact that they had been sitting around for hours waiting for their food while some old guy can walk in and have his order appear between his first and second sip of the coffee. You have to work in the service industry to really understand that people can be like this. And if part of my job is to take the extra time for Phil, than part of it must also be that I must help this lost soul to understand about being a regular. And so I would rest one hand on the counter and shift my weight to one leg, doing everything but not actually giving the appearance of leaning, because in a restaurant, if you've got time to lean, than buddy you've got time to clean.

And I would talk about being a regular.

I am a regular at Hamburger Mary's on Folsom. You can find me there most any Saturday or Sunday. Being a regular takes dedication. What you're gunning for is the point at which the staff expects you to be there and wonder where you are if you are not. On the average it takes about two months to become a regular if you come in every week, and about three weeks if you come in daily. But this all depends on how regular you are. You need to try to sit in the same seat, order the same thing. It helps a lot to do something a little unusual but not too much trouble. Maybe order steak sauce with your fish (try it), or salsa on your burger. Choose carefully because you need to be ordering this every time, or you're just the annoying person that asks for weird stuff. The difference between being a loved regular and someone that just drops in all the time is that your adherence to your routine makes the server's job easier.

You should sit at the counter, always. Again, it makes it easier on the server by being closer to the line, the coffee, and the condiments, and it leaves the tables free for bigger groups. Be friendly. Talk to the servers, the busboys, and the other regulars. Tip well, and by all means, be able to summarize your order quickly. The most annoying part of waiting tables is getting the customer to tell you their damn order. Servers like regulars. We're easy, sure money that don't take time away from those annoying customers that expect you to work.

Of course the real reason that I begin to look for a place to call my own is that I have not lived in a home where breakfast is at a certain time and we all sit down to eat since I was six. And I'm not all that sure how often that happened even then. Showing up at Hamburger Mary's every weekend for breakfast is the closest I can get to waking up in my home with my family expecting me to join them for breakfast. I order the same thing every time for a variety of reasons, but the main reason is simply that having to order what I want breaks the metaphor. This is, quite likely, why Phil came to Denny's every day -- so he could have dinner with his family. Just like me.