The waitress approached the table.
No waitress ever came near them.
Dean didn't even offer a quip about Fred's tightness with a buck and his moth-eaten purse as the old man called over a waitress to do the duties.
I have this night waitress job now; it isn't so bad.
He glanced up as the waitress delivered their food.
The young college-aged waitress inserted the tack, placed a quarter beneath it for weight and sounded a horn to call attention.
The waitress arrived with their food and placed it before them.
The waitress nodded and left them.
A waitress wearing a lace cap denoting her Pennsylvania Dutch heritage seated him at a small corner table by the window.
He started to lean toward Cynthia but the waitress was at his elbow.
A waitress neared them but beat a quick retreat when she heard their strained tones.
Sliding into his side, he caught the eye of a waitress and motioned to her.
She could waitress or bartend again, good gigs that could bring in tip money.
At the bistro where she was a weekend waitress, she saw the same friends meeting up for coffee every Saturday.
Dean said, a little too loudly, just as the waitress arrived with the ginger ales.