Pork-Chop Jane

 

(Jane is the laziest woman in the universe.)

Yesterday, I stopped for a smoke by the dumpsters before clocking into work. The manager was there, and we struck up a short conversation as we puffed away on our generic cigarettes.

He said, “Jack, you’re doing a stellar job. Your tickets are great, and you always keep up with your side work. I just wanted to let you know that your efforts haven’t gone unnoticed.”

“Thanks. I appreciate the kind words.” There was a long awkward silence. “I have to be honest with you. I do my best to avoid talking to the boss.”

He smiled. “I understand. And it’s not your job to talk to me.”

I took a long drag from my cig and blew the smoke up into the air. “It’s nothing personal. You seem like a nice enough guy. It’s completely my fault. I’ve been that way with all of my bosses. When I see them walking down a corridor, I turn around and walk the other way.”

“Not a problem. Trust me. I get it.” More silence. “Let me ask you a question.”

I nodded. “Sure.”

“Are the other workers taking advantage of your good nature?”

I shook my head vociferously. “Not at all. They’re very kind.”

“So Jane is helping you out? You aren’t stuck doing all the work, are you?”

I waved off his notion with both of my hands. “No. Jane is fantastic. She always helps me out.”

Of course, I was lying my ass off. Pork-Chop has to be the laziest girl in the entire universe. Her big beautiful butt never gets out of the chair. And many of the customers have complained about her attitude. Furthermore, she’s constantly goofed on skunk weed.

Yet, with that said, I truly enjoy Jane’s company. I’d rather work with a nineteen-year-old stoner than a hardcore Waffle Boy any day of the week. Sure. I have to perform a few extra duties. Yet I’m cool with it. Waffle people are often crazy. It’s like a cult. A waffle cult. How insane is that?

Anyway, the best thing about working nights is that I only have to see the manager for about ten to fifteen minutes a day. So it wasn’t long until he got into his SUV and drove home to his wife and kids.

It was an extremely slow night…one of the slowest in my entire waffle career. In fact, I only wrote fifteen tickets. But none of my customers stiffed me on a tip, so I ended up making $180. Not great, but it’s better than being employed at a gas station.

The thing about the Waffle House is that the work never ends. Even when you have no customers. Plus Pork-Chop Jane was my partner, and she spent the entire shift sitting at the counter and stuffing her face with free food.

She said, “You’re my favorite, Jack. There’s nobody else I’d rather work with.”

“Thanks, Jane. I like you, too.”

Then I cleared the dish pit as she wolfed down a plate of hash browns covered in syrup.

After that, I made the iced tea as she smiled at me and waved. But I didn’t mind. I even waved back.

At three in the morning, she went outside with Dwayne the Dwarf to smoke weed. That’s when I dropped the sink and cleaned the filter. Jane was still getting stoned when I swept and mopped the entire restaurant.

She returned an hour later with glazed eyes and a goofy smile.

Jane said, “You don’t have to worry about the toilets. I checked, and they look fantastic.”

I knew it was bullshit, so I decided to see for myself. They were a disaster. In fact, both the men’s and the lady’s rooms had piss on the seats. Therefore, I went ahead and cleaned them. What choice did I have?

Anyway, by the time the shift was over, I was nothing more than a ghost of a man. But things could have been much worse. At least I’m not getting butt-fucked in the Congo by angry rebels.

I try to look on the bright side of life. I’m wonderful that way.