Terry loads the counter with meal after meal, plate after plate; he can no longer guarantee they're cooked through, there are so many. Arlene comes to the counter and checks him out: he's "sweating like a ice-water pitcher." He manages to look her in the eye: "I'm feeling the pressure, Arlene. I don't like feeling the pressure." They both know, what he means. She tells him to take a break and he says he can't, so she takes off her apron and heads back, shouting for Daphne. He burns himself and throws something down, yelping. "Give me your tongs," she says, and when he protests there's something hilarious in her voice, imperious, mothering: "Give me your toooooongs. Take a break." She sends Daphne out with the platters for table four, which of course Daphne can't identify (Remember how easily Amy learned it? She understood abandon.) but one withering, exasperated look from Arlene sends her out onto the floor anyway. They agree she's not working out, Terry and Arlene, and he notes that it's all going to table four: "What the hell's going on at table four?" he whispers, but we already know.
Daphne stands in the whirl of a Merlotte's gone quietly exciting; there's a bit more movement, a bit more noise, than usual. She stares at them, wondering which table the food is for, and Maryann calls her over, smiling cruelly. "Miss! Miss? I think you're looking for me." We all are, sometimes. "I'd have stood there all night if you hadn't noticed me!" She asks Maryann, ironically, how she could tell Daphne's new, and Maryann gives her the full treatment: "Because you care about doing a good job. Now you just keep on caring, and one day you'll be the best at what you do. That's my advice." Wonderful. Pitch perfect. Daphne falls in love with her a bit and leaves; Maryann grins privately, deliciously, and bites into an onion ring, wriggling in her chair with the music.
Sam notes the sheer amount of beer at Andy's table, and counsels moderation, but eventually Andy admits that whatever usual level of pathetic he's laboring under, the actuality is bad enough that his nine years of sobriety are worth giving up. Sam sits down, warily and distractedly concerned, the way people always are with Andy: "Lots of people in this town don't need to see you this way." Sam's such a good boy. Andy spent the entire last season up his ass for no reason, but now that it's down to it he's telling Andy what a symbol of goodness and justice he is. How people deserve to see that.