The New Girl

(The new girl certainly speaks her mind.)

Tonight, I worked with Radio Head and a new girl. The new girl’s name is Trinity, and she talks with a funny accent because she’s from the Bahamas.

Anyway, I started putting away the plates and dishes as soon as I clocked in. Then I dropped a fork on the floor, so I had to bend over to pick it up.

She said, “Man, you is so old. Why you work? You should be relaxing at home?”

I smiled at her. “I’m fine. It’s just that I have problems with my knees.”

“How old is you?”

“Fifty-six.”

“I work with old man at da other store. He sixty-tree.”

“Do I look sixty-three?”

She shook her head. “Not you face. But da way you move. Plus you all hunched over. Why you not stand straight up in da air?”

“I’ve always been a slouch. I was born that way.”

Her words kind of made me feel self-conscious. But then I looked at her. She was a fat black girl with cornrows. Don’t get me wrong. I’m pretty fucking ugly, but I’m not as nearly ugly as her. I mean, where does she get the balls to talk about my appearance when she fell out of the ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down? However, I let it go. Why rock the boat, right?

One of my tables featured a Hispanic man with his wife and daughter. They ordered T-bone steaks, eggs, and hashbrowns. I had served him before, so I knew I was in for a pretty good tip. But Radio Head jumped past me to the cash register and screwed everything up. The guy gave her 66 dollars on a 54-dollar ticket. And sadly she rang it up as if the bill itself was 66 bucks. In other words, she inadvertently screwed me out of a 12-dollar tip.

Yet it turned out OK. I went into the machine and voided the entire transaction. Then I simply entered it again.

However, here’s the deal. The manager hates it when waiters use the void function. And I’m already on the red board dedicated toward the losers. So I guess we’ll have to see how it all turns out.

My shift was only five hours long, but at Waffle House you have a lot of stuff you got to do on the side. For instance, it was my job to make the iced tea and mop the floor. Therefore, I struck a deal with Trinity when the clock struck midnight.

I said, “Most of the customers have been sitting on my side of the restaurant tonight. Why don’t you take over the floor while I do some of the other shit before my shift ends.”

Her face brightened up, and she shot me a broad smile. “Really? How you gonna pay you bills with no tip money?”

“I already made close to a hundred bucks, so I’m good to go.”

“A hundred dollars in tree hour?” She thought about it for a second. “You get good tip because you old man. Dey feel sorry for you.”

I shrugged my slouched shoulders. “I don’t know. But I usually do pretty well compared to the others.”

“It your age. Old folk always do better.”

But here’s something that young people don’t understand. They’re all addicted to their phones and their drugs. And the customers fucking hate it. In fact, third shift has had a myriad of complaints about the behavior of the servers since I joined the team. It’s very rude to watch videos and sit on your fat rump while people chomp on their grub. It’s akin to giving them the finger.

That’s why I was given fulltime hours even though I’m the shittiest waiter in the fucking world. The boss knows that I’m not gazing at YouTube or getting stoned out by the dumpster. This isn’t me bragging about myself. I suck giant ass, but what other choice does he have?

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