5:30 came and the briefest of trainings was already over. Jones was exposed to the menu and what his responsibilities were.


    For being the supposed brother of a recently deceased co-worker, no one batted much of an eye when hearing his name. He dropped his full name maybe too many times in the break room before the shift began. Jones worried he was being too obnoxious with how much he repeated his surname. He could only hope the right party had heard his name and would be tempted into action. Jones was not as weak as a nineteen year old. Part of him hoped the ultimate confrontation would turn physical. A desire of exacting revenge was starting to pulse throughout his body.


    All of Jones'' new co-workers were too busy to pay much heed to a new face. Jones asked himself if the women here were allergic to such an attractive face. As a less ridiculous reason for the cold reception, he hypothesized that he was entering into a world where looks and behavior were only part of the equation. Living next to such rich people must be a contagious experience after all.


    The country club was approaching the busy time of the evening. It was explained to him by his shift manager that things would start to taper off around 8:00. The shift manager was stand-offish to the undercover private eye, but still took it upon himself to make sure that Jones had the tools to succeed at the job.


    The crowd that stayed after 8:00 were usually the younger guests. They did not demand as much from the staff in the dining hall and really would just drink the night away. The bartender would become swamped around that time and as long as you had a table away from the giant window and even further away from the bar you would not have much to do. Given that he was new Jones'' shift manager gave him a section of tables far from the majority of the action.


    6:00 o''clock rang and the shift began. Standing in the designated hall, Jones dreaded his first steps towards the first people who sat in his zone.  Nonetheless, his feets carried him forward. The dining hall revealed itself to Jones as he made his way over to the family waiting his attention. Some might complain that a dining hall did not suffice as a descriptor for such a grand stage. Jones did not know the word that would suffice. He only knew that the appropriate descriptor had to somehow convey unending grandeur and organized joy in an efficient manner. The private eye was of the mind that no sufficient multisyllabic word existed capable of describing a scene so magisterial.


    The decoration followed a red, gold, and white theme. Table clothes of pure white were decorated with the finest cutlery and what one could assume were gilded candelabras. Brass could not shine so bright. All of the serenity offered by the decor was dwarfed by the imposing majesticness of the enormous glass windows providing view of the lake. From the road the glass did not appear nearly so large. The sun was due to set in a few hours and Jones could not wait for the experience. The sunset here might just rival the feeling he would get at the beach.


    Jones'' momentary pause at the service entrance was disrupted by the beckoning of a co-worker to move forward and see his customers. Jones was determined not make such an error again and quickly put his head down. All he had to do was last till 8:00 and the investigation into the co-workers could truly begin.


    The first few families that Jones served were all staying at the hotel. Their eagerness to share details of their adventures aided in the overall smoothness. If Jones was not so nervous about his performance, he might have gotten annoyed at the constant borderline boasting that he was forced to hear.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    Of all the people that he served, only one family really stood out in their demeanor to the green waiter.


    Jones offered his standard clunky introduction, "Hello, my name is Brian and I will be taking care of y''all this evening. How may I help y''all this evening? Shall we start with some water?"


    A man wearing a bolo tie and a matching cowboy outfit answered with much a do, "Howdy there Brian. Waters for the whole family and an old fashioned pour moi. That is French for "for me." He bellied out a laugh knowing that the joke he had made was horrendous. Part of the humor to the Texan was that the waiter was forced to smirk at the horrible joke.


    "Yes, sir." Jones provided that expected smirk. He was not being disingenuous in the slightest. Truthfully, he enjoyed a bad joke. The joke too had provided relief from the all consuming investigation he was still a part of. Each moment that he had a break Jones was listening to the other waiters to catch if there was any trouble amongst the staff. It appeared as if there were no such internal problems.


    To Jones, it was undeniable that this man spoke in a Texas accent. Despite never having been to Texas, the Sunday morning cartoons of unfortunate Texas cowboys made the identification simple. A man from Texas was rich and spoke rambunctiously.


    The situation that Jones found himself in reminded him of those old cartoons. The second thing established by the oil baron, beyond his need for an old fashioned, was that the most expensive liquor needed to be used for his mixed drink. In addition, Jones was not to tell him the name of the whiskey used until the Texan had three guesses as to what it was. Jones that if this man was  an oil baron, he must have been one of those cattle ranchers capable of launching a range war.


    An army friend of Jones was from Texas and told Jones that Texans did not ever dress in such attire. The private eye was eager to shove this story in his face one day. This encounter was just something that he had to hold that friend should he ever see him again. The joke about pour moi was something he needed to repeat at least once.


    The Texan was particularly fond of flaunting his wealth. The bodaciousness of his flaunts prevented them from ever crossing into the realm of rude. The man ordered the most expensive dish the restaurant had. This would not be such a statement if the food was not being ordered through stating aloud for everyone in his vicinity to hear that he wanted "the most expensive entree for everyone at the table. We have no choice in the matter."


    Jones paused and said "Alright sir, I will get that right out for you."


    Jones'' assumed oil baron had one more question for the waiter, who was now eager to escape to the kitchen out of fear that such a man would see through his nervousness, "what sort of food am I getting son?"


    Truthfully, Jones did not know how to answer correctly. He had gotten acquainted with the menu, but not the prices. In fact, Jones knew none of the prices. Prices were never included on these sorts of menus.


    "Sir, if I may level with you, this is my first day and I woke up this morning not even knowing  this establishment existed." Jones was worried that his answer would disappoint the customer severely. He remembered the words of Luca only a few hours earlier and how the manager was met often with unreasonable demands from members of the club. Jones just had to hope that this was not one of those instances.


    The plump man from Texas was truthfully very kind, "You have done a great job son do not worry too much about such trivial details. If I really cared about what was coming to me I would have asked for it by name!" The Texan slapped his knee and laughed twice as hard as before.


    Jones went back and acquired the name of the dish from the shift manager. Returning to the table, he was met with more questions from the Texan, who now introduced himself as a Mr. Gormand.


    "Son, have you ever been a waiter before?"


    "No sir." All nervousness seemed to wash off given the exposition of the truth and the understanding of a person very adept at enjoying a fancy meal. It was still a bit strange to hear himself being called son when the wife that bore the Texan''s kids at the table must have been a few years younger than himself. The confidence that Jones was gaining allowed him to develop a greater understanding of his environment. He needed to not get so bogged down in the job should he wish to make progress on the case.