I got up at 6 p.m. and walked to the kitchen for
supper. My mother served me a hamburger, and it tasted damn good. Meanwhile,
Nurse Ken was sitting at the counter.
I said, “I listened to Steve Bannon’s podcast the
other day. He thinks that Orange Donald has come to his senses and isn’t going
to attack Iran.”
Ken said, “Well, Bannon’s full of shit because we just
bombed their nuclear sites.”
I shook my head in disdain. “No fucking kidding? Well,
I guess Trump knows what he’s doing. The guy has great instincts.”
“Horseshit. Soon we won’t be able to afford gasoline.”
I shrugged my shoulders. “What are you going to do? It’s
like Jesus said during the Olivette discourse. There will be wars and rumors of
war. But these are merely birthing pangs.”
Ken was disgusted by my words and went into a huge
tirade against the Jews. He believes that all our politicians are controlled by
the Zionists. But he doesn’t understand white people. We love money and
power, and no Jew is going to tell us what to do…unless we can cash in.
Gradually, his argument became more ridiculous. He
told me that I was forced to work at the Waffle House because of the Jews.
I said, “Are you fucking crazy? You’re going to pin
this on Bibi?”
“Bibi controls our shitty economy.”
I pointed at him with my index finger. “You’re
the reason I work at the Waffle House. Bibi’s got nothing to do with it.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you. You iced me out for six months and wouldn’t
speak to me until I returned from Korea.”
This left him speechless because he knew it was true.
Anyway, I got to the restaurant at 9 p.m., and the
manager wanted to speak to me out by the dumpsters.
He said, “How did yesterday go?”
I nodded. “Pretty good. We did a lot of business.”
“I heard that there was some conflict between the
staff. Lots of yelling and screaming.”
I shot him a big toothy grin. “Honestly, I never even
noticed. When you have a big crowd, it can get a tad stressful. But it seemed just
like every other shift.”
And I wasn’t lying. The overnight situation is perpetually
fucked up. But what do I care? I just work there and collect my pay. Plus I
have other fish to fry.
Benson was the main grill operator, and his cooking
skills seem to degenerate on a daily basis. If possible, he was even slower than
the night before. Plus he kept dropping eggs on the floor because he doesn’t
know how to flip them in the pan.
I tried to remain positive. “That’s OK, my young
friend. You’ll get the hang of it eventually.”
Then I helped him make the toast.
I’m not sure if Radiohead got fired. But as bad as
that lunatic was, she looks like Julia Child next to this fucking moron.
Then the kid burned himself on the grill and ran
screaming out the back door. So I had to wake up Dwayne the Dwarf, which is
never a pleasant task.
He shot me the stink eye and climbed out of the booth.
“Get the fuck out of my way.”
And like a hero in a movie, he strode into the kitchen
and saved the day.
Dwayne has a ton of skill. He can prepare an order for
four people faster than it takes me to grill a waffle. I shit you not.
I ended up making $230 for the shift. And I only had
to write eighteen tickets. Good for me.
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