Surly Cook

 

(Waffle House isn't always a happy place.)

On Saturday, I arrived at the Waffle House at 9 p.m. for my shift. As usual, the place was wild. I was teamed up with Weepy Wanda, and the grill operator was Dwayne the Dwarf. He isn’t an actual Dwarf, but he has to stand on his tippy toes in order to reach the plates and dishes.

Weepy Wanda put some money in the jukebox, and then she started singing at the top of her lungs. Meanwhile, the restaurant was filled to capacity. Yet nobody seemed to notice her strange behavior. They just kept shoveling hash browns into their fat faces.

Wanda said, “Do you know any of these tunes?”

I shook my head. “Not a single one.”

“It’s Taylor Swift. Everybody knows her. Have you been living under a rock?”

“Sort of. I’ve been out of the country for fifteen years. Most of the kids I knew listened to K-Pop.”

She suddenly changed the topic. “Do you have children?”

“Yes. One is twenty-four, and the other is seventeen.”

“Don’t they listen to contemporary music?”

I sighed heavily. “It’s different for me. My sons are half-Asian, so they only care about math and computer games. Plus, like many Korean males, they seem to love alcohol a little too much. It kind of worries me.”

“That’s racist!”

“Maybe. But true, nonetheless.”

The problem with Weepy Wanda is that she never stops talking or singing. And as she yaks and yaks, the dirty dishes tend to pile up. Furthermore, it’s tough to carry on a conversation while you’re passing out packets of mayo and refilling drinks.

With that said, I like her—even though she ripped me off for ten bucks. One of the customers left her a twenty with instructions to split the tip. She forgot to give me my half. But I’m not going to ruin a peaceful working relationship over chump change.

As usual, the cops showed up at around 2 a.m. I saw them out in the parking lot questioning one of our customers. They must have finally concluded that he was innocent because they let him get in his car and drive away.

Shit started slowing down around three, and Weepy Wanda and Dwayne the Dwarf went out back to smoke pot. I’m too old to get high, so I stayed inside and started washing piles and piles of dirty plates. It was really fucking gross, and I’m now thinking about bringing rubber gloves to work.

Suddenly, two hunters stepped into the restaurant. At least I think they were hunters. Both guys were dressed completely in camouflage.

I said, “Can I start you off with some coffee?”

“Yes. But we’re also ready to order.”

They wanted bacon, eggs, and hash browns. Yet Dwayne the Dwarf was nowhere to be found. He was still outside doing drugs. So I gave him a call on my smartphone and told him that I had a couple of live ones who wanted to eat.

Dwayne strode angrily back into the kitchen. Then he screamed, “Tell them that they’re going to have to fucking wait because I have to clean the floor first.”

Well, you guessed it. They heard him, and they were none too pleased.

One of them called me over. “We don’t have all morning to wait on this motherfucker. Just charge us for the coffee, and we’ll go.”

“Don’t worry about the coffee, sir. It’s on the house.”

He shook his head. “Son, we’re paying for the fucking coffee, and then we’re leaving.”

I felt very uncomfortable, but I stayed as polite as possible. In fact, I kept kissing their asses in an attempt to diffuse the situation.

Overall, it wasn’t a bad night financially. I ended up making $270 for the entire shift. That comes to $27 an hour.

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