Free Translated Accounts by James Kelman

I saw how he observed myself, for myself he was the worse one, noting all of myself. But did it matter, if it did, I could not think, did not care. The hate
from him. Yes, hate was there, hate firstly then inquisition, his stare now unconcealed, what I was, what? my clothes, tourist not tourist, stranger to our country, if that I was so, and what was
my bag, what was in it. He looked at me fully, one second, two, three, now shifting on his chair, making it known for myself of his valour. Yes, valorous man. I know it. Beware also he carries that
threat, that I should treat him with caution. I know it. Do not think only I am a waiter and such an age thus to be treated contemptuously. He would soon show to me another reality, fool that he
was, I could smile at him. What might he tell to the younger men, how valorous he has been, what he has achieved. Nothing.
    No. I should not have been in such a restaurant at such an hour. If my brains were to be in such turmoil, no, I do not think so. I had two cigarettes. I took one from my pocket, with matches,
and soon was smoking, staring also to the football match, South American. But these waiters were on duty, if it was my fault they were to be disturbed. No, no matter. I should not have been treated
this way. Customers would arrive at noon. This was 11.30. Even so I also was a customer, they should serve me.
    At all costs they would not look busy.
    Why they should look busy in such a job. A man has respect for himself and colleagues. I was no threat to them. It was of value to receive such a rating.
    But I required coffee, beer, why not brandy, large brandy. At last a waiter moved from the table. I was his burden. He approached with one eye still to the television, standing in front of me
but his head averted. I asked for that beer. He now glanced at me, unsmiling, indicating his wristwatch. I looked to it and in this moment saw also the doorway and through it beyond to outside
there was the elderly fellow who carried these silk materials, walking towards the designated area. I could not see the shoe-polishing boy, if he also was there. The waiter looking to me,
indicating his wristwatch.
    It is too early for beer?
    Yes, he said.
    I can have brandy.
    Yes, brandy.
    And coffee, glass of water, iced water, lemon, yes. And why not beer?
    Sorry.
    The waiter looked to his colleagues but none saw it, looking only to the football. But I would salute them one to another when the brandy arrived, if they glanced at me. And if ten minutes were
to pass before this brandy was brought to me then I would leave, yes, I cannot wait so long as this, explain to your owner it is too late, you cannot call this service, this is not service for any
restaurant, this is a railway station and the train is late. You go sir?
    Yes.
    Good, do not come back.
    Of course I do not come back, I shall tell the owner and the owner sacks you.
    The owner does not sack me, he is first cousin of my wife’s uncle.
    The waiter was placing a napkin and tea-plate by my elbow, jug of water, now returning to his colleagues, slouching into his chair, as that he had not left it, had not performed work services.
But his energy could not be disguised. He had performed the napkin and tea-plate service easily, carefully. Minutes passed. He returned to the kitchen and from there now to my table, setting down
my coffee, brandy, returning to his own table. One waiter spoke quietly to him and he replied also quietly, and there were smiles from them.
    I had one urge to approach their table, to address them all, Gentlemen, why so foolish? Instead I drank water, reached for the brandy, salute, yes, we must work together, what is solidarity, it
has a meaning, under the surface are we colleagues, we are colleagues.
    Other customers were there and now, now came the time, and through the window to the alleyway I saw her approaching, her walk normal, shoulderbag, silk scarf covering her hair. I rose from the
table to greet her,