George, bored, walked round to the customer side of the bar that opened out to the garden and leaned against it, contemplating the river.  Another Friday afternoon.  Actually, it wasn’t that bad; there were only two regulars, sitting in one corner, putting the world to rights.  Their voices rose and fell on the light breeze that ruffled the surface of the water, scattering sharp points of reflected light over the riverbank and against the outside wall of the bar. 

 

He liked working afternoons at the bar.  So much so that he’d been doing it for years.  He liked to keep his evenings free and was bit of a telly-addict, if truth be known,   but not always and he liked to go out on Fridays. 

 

The customers weren’t too bad either, well, most of them anyway.  They certainly got a mixed bunch in there and on early summer afternoons, like this one, he enjoyed being able to work in the fresh air and sunshine.  When the weather was bad the atmosphere indoors became thick and uncomfortable, particularly when the workers from the nearby car factory came in.  They brought the smell of the place with them and if there were a lot of them and they stayed for a long while he sometimes felt a bit queasy.

 

He’d been leaning there for a while, almost dozing in the warm air, when the side gate creaked.  There were voices, sharp and grating.  He straightened up and walked round to his own side to wait for the newcomers.  Once the factory closed, always an hour earlier on a Friday afternoon, some workers occasionally called in for a few drinks to set themselves up for the weekend.

 

Eventually they came into view and, with many false starts, decided on the table in the far corner nearest to the river.  There were two couples and the females sat opposite their partners, settling themselves down with a lot of fidgeting and rattling of expensive, bright metal accessories.  There was no sign of anyone getting up to order so George took his pad and pencil and weaved his way between the empty tables until he stood beside them.  He waited.  It must have been a long hard week, in that factory.  The foursome looked a little worn around the edges and there was a metallic tang in the air surrounding them in spite of the breeze.   Too much time cooped up on the assembly line, he thought, as he continued to wait.  Finally, they decided on their drinks and he want back to the bar to set them up.

 

With a full tray, he started once more on his journey through the maze of tables.  The two regulars, who had stopped talking, watched as he set out four cans of the very best on offer.  There were two glasses for the females and they waited while he poured the golden liquid into their glasses.  The regulars stared.  How could that lot from the factory afford to drink the best, when they had to make do with the stuff out of the tap, which looked pale and weak compared to the golden richness of the stuff the newcomers were drinking.  Nevertheless, they ordered two more of ordinary as George made his return journey.

 

The first drinks went down very quickly and the two couples re-ordered.  Another journey through the tables and back.  And then again.  By the time the third lot had gone down the four of them had mellowed somewhat.  Not surprising, considering the strength of what they were drinking.  Their voices had slowed and they were leaning towards each other, speaking in confidential tones.   Their skin  gleamed in the afternoon sun and their movements were becoming smooth and languid as the golden liquid continued to disappear at an alarmingly fast rate.

 

As George cleared the pile of cans from the table, they ordered four more and he began to wonder how long they would be able to keep up such a pace.  And the bill was mounting up.  The two regulars, who were still there, were fascinated by the quartet in the corner.  They ordered more drinks, determined to sit out the strangers. 

 

By this time the bar was filling up and George was kept busy.  He rushed from bar to tables, trying to serve everyone as quickly as possible.  It was turning out to be one of his better days and he knew his boss would be pleased if the takings were up.  He kept an eye on the four in the corner and each time they re-ordered he looked closely at them, looking for signs that they’d had enough.  They seemed fine so he got on with his job, fetching and carrying, wiping and clearing, until eventually he was able to pause for a short break. 

 

The sun had passed over and the shadows of the weeping willows on the riverbank were lengthening when he took the opportunity to assess them again.  He checked his tally and realised that they had spent a lot of money over the past few hours.  He hoped they were good for it but when he finished his break and went to clear the table they simply ordered more and he decided to let them get on with it. 

 

By this time they were sitting, slumped across the table in a very relaxed fashion.  One of the females was having difficulty speaking and the other kept interrupting, trying to anticipate what the first one wanted to say.  The others started to laugh at her and she became angry then turned away, refusing to respond to their placatory words.  Then the conversation turned to other matters and she was soon taking part again, the imagined insult forgotten.

 

The two regulars, who had been drinking longer than anyone, were becoming troublesome.  They started arguing with one another and then butted in to a conversation the people at the next table were having.  George was obliged to tell them to calm down or have to ask them to leave.  They turned their attention on him and made a few weak jokes at his expense.  He ignored it.  He was used to being insulted by customers on a regular basis and to him it was all part of the job.  After some heated discussion he agreed that they could have another drink each so long as they didn’t disturb the other customers.

 

Finally, tables began to empty and it wasn’t long before there were only the four in the corner and the two regulars still there.  All six had slowed down and the levels of liquid in glasses and cans remained steady.  George totted up the takings for the afternoon and realised that it was the best session he’d ever had.  He was well up on his previous best and looked forward to the bonus he'd get for his efforts.  He felt happy, anticipating the evening ahead.  With a bonus he would be able to stay out longer than normal and maybe even treat himself to a woman.  He felt himself growing warm in anticipation of this rare treat.

 

At the table in the corner the female who had been angry earlier looked ready to slide under the table so the other three finished their drinks and waved to George for the bill.  He printed it off from the computer and took it over on a small saucer.  He was mightily relieved when they paid up without any fuss and started to gather themselves together to leave.  Eventually they were all on their feet and, though a little wobbly, managed to leave without knocking over any tables or chairs.  He took the money back to the bar and got a tray to clear the table.  The regulars stared, glassy eyed, as he gathered up the remaining cans and glasses.  As he headed back to the bar, one of them called him over.

 

‘They certainly got well-oiled, didn’t they?’  

 

His companion, pretty well gone by then nodded in agreement.  They got up from their table with much groaning and stretching of stiff limbs, shoved enough money at George to pay for their drinks and shambled off.

 

George sighed, his mind on the evening ahead as he took a cloth to the table in the corner.  He was just about to wipe it down when he noticed a small wet spot exactly where the drunken female had been sitting.  Glancing around to make sure there was no-one to see him, he dipped his forefinger into the wetness and rubbed it against his thumb, noticing the oily smoothness.  He looked around again before holding his fingers to his face and inhaling deeply.

 

‘Bloody robots,’ he said, in disgust, rubbing hard at the oily stain on the seat.

 

End