Water District Officials’ Expense Accounts Tapped Out

“Is this the best you can do?” Carmichael the contractor said to O’Malley of the water district.

“Absolutely,” O’Malley said. “How about that table over there by the window?”

“You mean the one with the hot dog wrappers and the overturned salt shaker on the table?” a still puzzled Carmichael asked.

“Yeah,” O’Malley said. “Just brush it off onto the floor. They’ll clean it up later.”

“Good God, there’s ketchup on the seat,” Carmichael whined. “How about the one in the corner instead?”

“Suit yourself,” O’Malley said. “But let’s make a decision. I’ve only got 30 minutes for lunch.”

“Sheesh, you water guys are sure jumpy all of a sudden,” Carmichael said. “I remember when you couldn’t make a decision on anything without a rack of lamb and a nice Cabernet in front of you.”

“Those were the old days, pal,” O’Malley said. “You been reading the papers lately? They’re killin’ us.”

A waitress chewing bubble gum and on roller skates came over to their table. “What can I get you guys?”

“I’ll have a cheeseburger, large fries and a Coke,” O’Malley said.

“If you get the medium fries instead of the large, I can give you the special,” the waitress said. “The whole meal for $2.29. Saves you 45 cents.”

“I’ll take it,” O’Malley said. “My friend here will have the same.”

“Hey, I don’t want a Coke. I want a shake,” Carmichael said.

“If he gets a shake, do we still get the special price?” O’Malley said.

“Just with the Coke,” the waitress said.

“He’ll have the Coke, then,” O’Malley said.

She rolled away, and Carmichael got down to business. “We need some help,” he said. “You know we’ve been hurting, we had a terrible last quarter and we could really use some business from you guys. Whaddya say?”

Four 8-year-olds were eating at the table next to O’Malley and Carmichael. One of them tried to blow some of his shake through his straw at his buddy, but the kid ducked and it hit Carmichael in the ear instead.

“Sorry, mister,” the kid said. “Need a napkin?”

Carmichael was furious. He pressed O’Malley further about the upcoming project that might mean millions to Carmichael’s company.

Before O’Malley could answer, though, the waitress was back with their order.

“A couple packets of ketchup, please,” O’Malley said.

“Sure thing,” she said.

“We’ll open the thing for bids, and you guys will get your shot,” O’Malley told Carmichael.

“We were hoping that we wouldn’t have to go through quite such a formal procedure,” Carmichael said. “If you know what I mean.”

“Eat your fries. They’re getting cold,” O’Malley said, his mouth full of cheeseburger. Unfortunately, as he spoke a chunk of pickle from his burger flew out of his mouth and onto Carmichael’s tie.

Carmichael was fast losing his patience.

“This is nuts,” he sputtered. “I can’t do business with you in a burger joint. I miss the way the maitre d’ always escorted us to our table with the view of the mountains, I miss Felipe the waiter we always got, I miss the way they took us down into the wine cellar before we made our selection. I even miss valet parking!”

“You miss it because you never paid for it,” O’Malley said, idly amusing himself now by stacking the sugar packets and twisting his straw into what looked like a donkey. “You loved it because I paid for it. Or I should say, our water district paid for it. Besides, why can’t we discuss business over burgers?”

“I don’t know,” Carmichael said. “There’s just something that sounds sleazy about talking about all this stuff while we share french fries. Frankly, it sounds a lot classier talking about it in a restaurant when the tab comes to 200 bucks.”

“I’m afraid times have changed,” O’Malley said. “Imagine how I feel. From now on, when I go out of town on business, I don’t even get a limousine.”

“Geez, I’m sorry,” Carmichael said. “I had no idea things had gotten that bad. Tell you what, why don’t we just forget the whole thing.”

The waitress returned with the check. “$4.94 with tax,” she said.

“Here, let me get that,” Carmichael said.

“Not on your life,” O’Malley said, grabbing the check.

“And waitress,” O’Malley said, “could I get a receipt, please?”

Dana Parsons’ column appears Wednesday, Friday and Sunday. Readers may reach Parsons by writing to him at The Times Orange County Edition, 1375 Sunflower Ave., Costa Mesa, Calif. 92626, or calling (714) 966-7821.