[Kings Waffle] Chapter 11: (Just a Few of) The Waffle Makers

Oftentimes at Kings Waffle, the distinction of employee and friend is/was blurry. People who worked there became friends. Friends who you met there became employees. There were even a few who regularly rotated between both categories (and that’s not at all to say that an employee couldn’t be a friend, just that some folks fluctuated). I even once considered putting in a job application at times—if I was there enough anyways and I needed some extra cash, why not learn how to cook or serve tables?

I saw enough people go through that, though. It always made me reconsider. For all the good customers who come through doors and into the golden light, there’s also the worst of the worst:

• Entitled folks with no patience or understanding

• Drunks who think you’re standing too close to their car

• Drunks who think their mid 90s Mitsubishi is a nice car

• Drunks who get thrown out of the restaurant because they won’t stop complaining about the people allegedly standing too close their allegedly nice car

• Kids who don’t tip

• Adults who don’t tip

• Adults & kids who think leaving a bible verse on the table is the equivalent of a tip

The list could go on for days, but these were the kinds of people I’d never want to deal with. I’d met enough working in an amusement park, retail, and one stint in food service before. I do, however, have all the respect in the world for those who have worked and continue to work behind the low and high counters of Kings Waffle. In many conversations I’ve heard about their system, the details of their duty, and the demands of the job. There are many hardworking people who have come through here who don’t often get the credit or respect they deserve. 

Pam

- Pam on August 25, 2014.

Pam wasn’t one of the regular staff at Kings Waffle—I met her when she was filling in from another store. We talked about what I was trying to do with these photographs/this writing and why a place like this particular Waffle House was special. She listened closely at a time when folks I had known much longer couldn’t. We compared notes on our respective career ventures when she revealed that not only was she an occasional server for the iconic roadside chain, but she worked in the modern riverboat trade as well—a certified Captain. She spoke with enthusiasm as she told me all about the regulations and safety measures required when operating on the Ohio River. One of the things I’ve always liked about this Waffle House was how it serves somewhat as a home for people from all walks of life—a melting pot in actual practice, not the cliched grade school social studies book sense. It’s a place where everyone is on equal footing whether you’re passing through as a long haul trucker or subbing in as a server who also happens to command ships of tourists. I saw Pam a few more times after I made this photograph and wherever she is today, I hope she’s still shining that warm smile and experiencing smooth sailing. 

Kim

- Kim on July 29, 2014.

Kim once sprayed me with a hose from behind the high counter. Ordinarily reserved for cleaning dishes, it became her go-to weapon after we had dared her to spray “The Mayor” once before. I don’t remember what I did to deserve it, but nevertheless, this was apparently frowned upon by management who later forced one of the longest-tenured employees of our time to apologize to me. I truly took no offense to the situation, though (and I probably deserved the spray). Kim was always friendly and always happy to see us—at the ready to show us something “interesting” on the internet, tell us a story about her dog (or how she wanted another dog (a blue Chiuahah) and then later a cat (a blue Russian)).  Kim, thanks for always making my days a bit brighter.

Amy

- Amy on July 29, 2014.

“Your usual tonight?,” Amy would always say before I even sat down. She had the order memorized perfectly, always remembering that I prefer a biscuit instead of toast. No nonsense all around and one of the best servers to grace Kings Waffle. Ran into her a few years after this photograph was made—she still remembered the biscuit.

Dave

- Dave on June 18, 2014.

Dave was one of the first cooks who memorized my order. He’d simply ask (as soon as I walked in the door, before a server could even say hello): “you eating?” All l I had to say was “yeah” to get a perfectly made cheesesteak omelette with double hash browns scattered well and a biscuit substituted for the toast.

Dave was always friendly, direct, and honest—once wasting absolutely no time to offer his thoughts on a new haircut I had. 

I never got it cut like that again. 

Thanks, Dave.

Jack and Steve

- Jack and Steve on August 14, 2015.

After this photograph was made, I asked Steve for a quote. He simply said, laughing: “I’ve already given you what you need. You don’t know it yet, but you’ve got it.” We went on to compare the Waffle House we were sitting at to the other location an exit down the highway, the one off of Fields-Ertel Rd. I appreciated his observation that Kings Waffle was one of “the last bastions of American society,” (even if neither of us had any idea what that was really supposed to mean) and that Fields-Ertel was “touristy.” Both locations often filled up with nearby Kings Island Amusement Park guests after the fireworks flew and the park closed, but the cast of regulars at each store was a bit different. Steve was used to it and I had met him while he was completing orders on the often busy third shift. He knew the Kings Island rush well and if he wasn’t diligently preoccupied at the grill (which he did very well), he was always great to converse with. We both shared a dislike for the music of The Beach Boys.  

At the time I knew him, Jack was an aspiring artist who always had news to share. No matter how serious a discussion was happening between two people in the corner booth—he just really needed to know, if you knew, about the new Jimmy John’s opening up down the street. By the time this portrait was made, Jack had returned to life as a regular customer, a position where idle distraction doesn’t cause one to miss drink refills or make an ignored and impatient family glare from across the restaurant.

Last I heard, Jack ended up working at that Jimmy John’s alongside another Waffle alumni (not pictured here), a guy who believed that the “Ice Bucket Challenge” was a conspiracy between ISIS (“ice us, IS-IS!”) and President Obama to usher in a Muslim theocracy. Jack, I don’t think, believed any of that. I do know that he loved art and often had something creative and cool to show. I hope he’s putting some good into the world and not drenching himself in ice lest he fall victim to the secret Shariah Law conspirators in our midst. 

Forrest

- Forrest on February 3, 2015.

Forrest and I first bonded over a love of ska and punk music. He started out as a customer, coming in with tattoos displayed on the tops of his hands and a leather jacket brandished with studs. We’d smoke our cigarettes out front and talk about The Suicide Machines, Bad Religion, and Operation Ivy. These conversations would continue when he transcended from regular patron to employee. 

Familiar with touring and life on the road, Forrest would often tell me of his dream to purchase a vintage Volkswagen Bus that he’d be able to roll around the nation with. I’d receive regular updates on this quest as he’d drop off meals while the weeks, months, and years went on. 

He seemed to always be getting close, but could never quite find the right combination of price versus upkeep. One winter afternoon, he still clung tight to the Volkswagen dream and talked about it in between demonstrating his Fender Stratocaster and playing his own songs while the restaurant sat empty aside from the two of us. 

He eventually returned to customer status, retiring from the service of Waffle House in what may have been a dishonorable discharge (I never got the full story). We’d run into each other, occasionally crossing paths late at night—still discussing music, still discussing that van. Then I stopped seeing him for awhile outside of the occasional Facebook post. That was until one night when a Volkswagen van rolled up around 2 A.M. 

Freshly back from Chicago—out jumped Forrest and several friends. Same guy, same good conversations, but this time with a look of pride every time he pointed to the van he had so long desired. He showed it off like a proud parent. Unlike many who pine about “hitting the open road,” Forrest was out there doing just that, living a life that made me both happy for him and envious of him.  

Wherever you are these days, Forrest—I hope you’re still out there rolling around in that Volkswagen spreading good music. 

Missy and Brian

- Missy and Brian on September 26, 2014.

I made this photograph of Missy and Brian on Missy's birthday—a night where, despite the occasion, they were both working. Yet, Brian was still able to have cake and flowers brought in as a surprise, sharing it with the regulars after more transient customers had filtered out. Although I had this picture, I never got to talk to these guys too much before they moved on from Kings Waffle. I will share this anecdote though: Missy was a great server, she’d always have a good conversation going while Brian worked behind the grill. He knew what he was doing back there, and not just when it came to the rarely changing menu of Waffle House. He had been a cook for a long time at many restaurants around the area and his skills were far above omelettes and hash browns. Getting creative with standard ingredients and portions, Brian could deliver items from his “secret menu” if you could be trusted and knew how to ask politely. His quesadilla was excellent, but his crowning achievement: pancakes—made on the grill and served at a restaurant that wants absolutely nothing to do with a product that’s similar to their namesake, but not one that they’ve become an international domicile for compared to their breakfast food rival with the weird clown face logo.

Seriously, don’t order pancakes at a Waffle House. 

Unless you know the right people. 

Sadly, I found out that a few years after this photograph was made—Brian had passed away. My thoughts are with Missy and should you ever read this: please know how much I appreciated getting to know both of you a few years back. 

- Thanks, Brian.

Haley

- Haley on September 3, 2014.

I originally knew Haley as a server, a friendly face who wasn’t just good at her job, but would often hang out and talk with everyone else when she had some downtime on her shifts. Those conversations led to friendships and after Haley moved on to better opportunities, she became a regular. She once told me that working at Waffle House was “the best decision of her life” since it’s where she met all of her closest friends.

She is without a doubt one of the kindest and friendliest people I’ve ever met. I truthfully can’t recall a time where I ever saw her not smiling—even when she was a server, a job that can require dealing with the most absurd customers and bullshit imaginable. These days, she’s still around. Still close with all of those friends. 

And still smiling. 

- Haley on May 31, 2020.

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Next Chapter: Commonality

Previous Chapter: Waiting for the Lights

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Special thanks to Bob Brumberg for the post title on this chapter.