Alice's Restaurant

You can get anything you want
at Alice’s restaurant…
I play the song every Thanksgiving,
and it always makes me think of Alice,
the woman I worked with who seemed
perpetually angry at every restaurant
she entered, either “assaulted”
by the smell of grease, or “offended”
by the waitress, who was “an icy little troll,”
or hysterical with her claim
she was allergic to mushrooms,
“Throw those away! Now!”
We all sat in shock, eyes lowered,
as the waiter scuttled away with the dish.

She was the same at work,
always on the phone to someone, demanding,
“Let me speak to your manager!”

After a while, I always found an excuse
not to join the work team
when they went to lunch Friday afternoons.

But hey, I do love that Arlo Guthrie song.
Excepting Alice!