Poisoning the Customers

(It's tough being a working man.)

On Friday, I almost poisoned the innocent Waffle-House customers. Daphne Diamond was sitting on her fat ass at the counter with a glass of Coke in her hands when she suddenly yelled at me.

“We need to refill the ice!”

“And how exactly do we do that?”

She shook her head with disgust. “Just get some freaking ice and fill up the container near the soda fountains.”

“Where is the ice machine?”

“It’s in the back of the store, genius. Put the ice in a bucket. What? They didn’t teach you that at college?”

Everybody laughed. In her defense, it was actually a good zinger.

The amount of abuse I take from this woman is off the charts. It’s almost as if the Dragon Lady is getting her revenge.

Anyway, there were a lot of orange buckets resting on the floor. So I filled one of them to the top and started walking back to the restaurant. That’s when I passed Marsha the Manager.

She said, “What are you doing?”

“I’m refilling the ice.”

“Not with that bucket! We use the orange ones when we clean the floors. They are filled with all kinds of nasty chemicals. Dump the ice in the sink.”

To make a long story short, I finally found the right bucket and accomplished my task. Yet I have to tell you the truth. It’s not easy working for Daphne. She hasn’t taught me a fucking thing. In fact, the only job I seem to do is her dirty work.

Later in the day, I stopped by a liquor store and bought a huge bottle of Evan Williams bourbon. Sadly, Jack Daniels is a little too pricey for a waffle boy. Then I went home and drank a couple of high balls.

My mother fussed at me. “I hope you’re not becoming an alcoholic.”

“Me, too. But the Waffle House is ripping me a new asshole, and the booze helps me cope.”

“That’s disgusting.”

Suddenly, I felt this surge of energy go through my body. It was almost like getting struck by a bolt of lightning. That’s when I checked my email. It turns out I got a message at that very moment from one of my banks in South Korea. Pretty spooky, huh? Anyway, the severance pay from my former employer finally came through. I thought the final tally would come to $10,000 dollars, but they actually gave me twelve.

I jumped in the air with joy.

Mom said, “What’s going on?”

“My fucking money came!”

Nurse Ken walked into the kitchen. “What the fuck are you yelling about?”

I patted him joyfully on the shoulder. “My money came. Now I can buy a car.”

He said, “Are you still going with the Hyundai Venue.”

I nodded. “That’s right.”

“Well, you’re making a huge mistake. The Venue is a piece of shit. Plus it’s tiny. If you get hit by a dump truck, then you’re a dead man.” He took a huge hit from his vaping machine and blew the mist in my face. “Furthermore, a Hyundai? Really? Haven’t you had enough of South Korea? I think you need help.”

“Look. I’m trying to enjoy my life, and every small victory counts. So stop pissing in your poor old father’s face.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Whatever.”

Then he walked upstairs to his room. The son of a bitch.

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