Diner Debate Society
The topic up for the debating societies down at the Diner this week was Obamacare, what nobody calls by its official name, the Affordable Health Care Act. The House of Representatives wants to delay or modify or hopefully kill the bill so two days ago the government shut down over the impasse and in two weeks we may default on our debt obligations. For about half the patrons, this was worth cheering. “Last chance to stop this before we become a socialist state,” Harold cried, raising his coffee mug in salute, we thought, but actually signaling Anita for his 3rd refill, no doubt on his way to politico-caffeine overdose.
Down the counter, hunkered over his biscuits and gravy, Ozone Davy took up the gauntlet. “The train’s left the station, Harold. Yesterday I signed up for a new health plan. You boys are a little behind the curve….!” Anita put her head down and worked the room, figuring here we go. Sure enough a voice from the back booth she recognized as Walter, usually only spokesman for NRA issues, jumped into the fray. “They shut the damn government down and I say that’s a good start — KEEP it shut down, I say.” Anita thought if only Walter would keep his big mouth shut, now THAT would be a good start.
“Easy for you two,” Davy replied, pointing a biscuit speared on a fork at Harold that dripped grease and bitterness. “You old farts got MediCare, what do you have to worry about? Me, I got a wife, kids, and I couldn’t afford insurance being out of work. But I can now. How about that?”
“Maybe you should’ve kept a job, Dave,” Harold said cruelly, grinning over his chicken fried steak covered in milk gravy. “I worked for mine and I sure didn’t expect Obama to pay my way.”
“He’s probably paying for breakfast with food stamps,” Walter hollered from across the room. “Free food, unemployment compensation, now free health care. Paid for by all the rest of us.!”
Anita groaned audibly when a table near the door erupted in applause. Tips always went south after these debates. Nobody won, not outright, but once again she’d be the loser. “More coffee, honey,” Harold summoned. “I’m paying hard earned cash.” She knew Harold was collecting disability, but she also knew to keep her lip buttoned. Maybe, she thought, she’d look at this health care stuff when she got off shift tonight. No point giving up all her tips.
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