I wave at the waitress. She doesn’t seem to be in any big hurry to serve me and suddenly I find this annoying. What’s her problem? Has she pegged me as an out-of-towner?

When I worked at the Runza, we were expected to immediately shout out “Welcome to Runza, a meal in a bunza!” the minute a customer came in. The minute we heard the door-chime jingle.

Oh, you don’t know what a runza is? Okay, it’s like a Russian calzone. It’s yummy meat, ground in with yummy vaguely Russian spices, surrounded by a bun. Thus, the meal in a bunza.

Working at Runza, you were expected to wear a yellow Runza T-shirt and forest-green shorts. Even in winter. Side bar: The owner was a creep. Fun fact: I quit that job by throwing an ice cream cone at him.

You may be interested to know that before the alleged ice cream throwing, one night in early fall, Zander came strolling in. It was at this point that I dove under the counter, hiding behind the soda machine. So Zander walked into an empty Runza.

“Hello? Heeelloooo, anybody there?” He looked around.

And I stayed hidden.

“Um, okay, is anyone here?” And then he continued looking around until he looked behind the counter where I was hiding.

“Daffodil?” This, of course, was before he called me Daffy. Before anything, really. “I didn’t know you worked here. Um. What are you doing?”

“I’m . . . um . . . cleaning the . . . bottom of the cabinets.”

He looked at me then.

“The owner is super strict about cabinet cleansing maintenance.”

He gave me a funny look then. “It kind of looked like you were hiding a little bit.” He grinned. Somehow shimmering.

“No. I really care about it too! Cabinet cleanliness!”

“Okaaaay.” Still shimmering.

“Do you want to order something?” I suddenly remembered I was supposed to work there.

“Actually, not really. Actually . . . I kind of just came here to see you.”

Aaaaand my head exploded.

“What? Wait, I thought you just said you didn’t know I worked here?”

“I kind of lied.” Sheepish grin. “You look pretty cute in your Runza representation outfit.”

Oh. MY God.

“I look like a banana.”

Shimmer shimmer shimmer.

I really just couldn’t take it anymore. “You should probably go. Since you’re not ordering anything. See, look, the sign says no loitering.”

He looked up at the sign.

“Okay, I’ll have a Runza and a shake. Now you can’t kick me out.”

Gasp.

“I refuse to serve you.” I pointed to the other sign. “See. We have the right to refuse service.”

“You’re a tough case, Daffodil.” He smiled and began walking out, casually whistling.

Then just as he reached the door, he turned back. “A very tough case . . . that I intend to crack.”

The door-chime slammed behind him as he walked out and the entire Runza, a meal in a bunza, was filled with the air of a shimmering circus.