Best of the weekend: Waitress lost more than just her job

By Columnist - Columnist

Christine Kulling is 46 years old with grown kids. Her husband is a machinist who lost his job more than a year ago. Times are tough, she knows: Kulling lost a waitressing job at a pizza/pasta place last week after eight years.

She cried, said her husband, Fred.

"Not tears over the job, but the customers she saw every day," Fred Kulling said.

Kulling only knew some customers by orders. Maybe she knew a first name, but she always knew the food, the drink, the smile.

There's a part of a waitressing job that has nothing to do with the paycheck or the tips. It's the people that a lady on her feet all day sees, waits on, learns about. The Kullings came from western Pennsylvania a little more than 10 years ago. Kulling met almost everybody she knows around York County at her job.

"There was Dennis and Blanche, older couple, half a pizza with ham and onion, half plain," Kulling said. "Mike from Home Depot, he always got the pepperoni calzone with the sweet tea. He was a retired trooper from near where we come from in Pennsylvania, worked a murder case in my hometown."

Then there was Julie, in with her mom Wednesdays and Saturdays.

"House special calzone for her, mom liked pepperoni pizza, sweet tea, no lemon," Kulling said.

And who can forget "Spaghetti Man Bob."

"Tuesday around 4 o'clock, Diet Pepsi, spaghetti and meatballs, salad with Thousand Island dressing, lotsa crackers," she said. "Saturday, a pizza or meatball hero, no cheese."

Pat and Charlie?

"She got an 18-inch pizza because Pat likes leftovers the next day, he always got the ravioli with balsamic vinegar dressing on the salad," Kulling said. "Don't forget Tony and Diane. He'd get an 8-inch supreme, she'd get an 8-inch white pizza. Two Pepsis and waters."

Then there was Robert, who would call in first even though he didn't have to.

"Always wanted two waters, said he didn't want to trouble me to ask for more," Kulling said.

Noreen and Bob, who would change up orders but liked to sit and talk about children and grandchildren.

A lady named Katie and her husband, expecting their first child.

"I'm crocheting them an afghan," Kulling said. "She always got ravioli or manicotti, he liked the pepperoni calzone with ranch dressing on the salad. They both drank Mountain Dew."

Some people, Kulling didn't know any names.

"One family, the husband got eggplant parmigiana, spaghetti and salad with balsamic. The wife liked her ziti. The daughter had 'chicken parm' and spaghetti and salad with ranch. The son was adventurous, tried something different every time. The daughter-in-law could never make up her mind but liked eggplant and sausage and peppers. The grandson got the little kid pizza or spaghetti with one meatball. The son was in the military. He got deployed. Iraq, I think."

Around the holidays, Kulling made hard candy, cookies, bread, fudge, all kind of goodies, then took the sweets in for customers "all wrapped up nice."

Kulling recalled a family that always got an 18-inch pizza and waters all around.

"Policeman, a detective. RHPD. Friendly."

That cop is named Dugan. Keith Dugan. I found Dugan to ask about the waitress named Christine.

"She knew us, treated us great, remembered everything about us," Dugan said. "Fine lady."

Kulling sat at her kitchen table Friday afternoon. She teared up a bit, drank coffee.

"I lost my friends," she said. "I can get another job. And I will. But the people aren't going to be there. The customers were my family."