Thursday Night

 

(Sometimes, I can get a little paranoid.)

Last night, I ate a single piece of steak before driving to work. Nurse Ken was sitting at the kitchen counter.

I said, “When will they mail you your college diploma?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe in a couple weeks.”

“It’s almost July. Are you sure you actually graduated?”

He let out a heavy sigh. “You’ve asked me that question a million times. Yes, I fucking graduated.”

“Then why didn’t you go to the graduation ceremony?”

“I’m not into all that bullshit. I didn’t go to my high school graduation, either.”

Like father like son. I skipped all my ceremonies, too. I had no urge to walk across a stage to shake hands with some asshole I’ve never met before. But that’s me. My attitude sucks giant ass.

I cleared my throat. “Did you apply to the police like I asked you?”

“No, I didn’t apply to the fucking police. The last thing I want to do is become a cop. I’m still thinking about joining the Airforce.”

“Well, I hope you like the taste of sand because they’re going to end up sending you to the Middle East. Have fun getting your nuts shot off for Bibi and Orange Donald. However, I’m sure they’ll pay for the funeral. Hell, they might even give us a brand-new flag to drape over your coffin.”

“Why are you so unpatriotic?”

“I’m not unpatriotic. In fact, I’ll be the first one to defend the homeland. But I’ll be damned if I’ll die for nothing”

Anyway, I let it go after that. No reason to stand on a soapbox. Trust me. Nobody’s going to listen to a clown who wears an apron and a baseball cap to his job site.

I eventually got to the restaurant at 8:45 p.m. My co-workers were Dwayne the Dwarf and Pork-Chop Jane. True to form, the first thing Jane did upon her arrival was sit on her big beautiful ass and scarf down a huge BLT. Yet it was no big deal. The place was pretty much dead, so I was able to keep up with the work.

But Pork-Chop said something that made me a little paranoid. She talked about one of her friends being two-faced, and then she walked out the door to take a few hits off her vape.

I immediately went outside to confront her.

I said, “What was that crack about me being two-faced?”

She laughed out loud. “I wasn’t talking about you, Jack. It was about my boyfriend.”

“Because I’m not two-faced. The only time I talk to the manager is to say hello and goodbye.”

“Like I said, it has nothing to do with you.”

Working with Jane and Dwayne can be a tad challenging. Why? They break all the fucking rules. They fall asleep during their shift. They get high by the dumpster even though customers have complained about their service. They don’t do a lot of the required side work. Sometimes, she’ll sit for hours and hours in her boyfriend’s car while I’m inside cleaning the fucking plates.

Yet the manager seems oblivious to their work ethic. Is he ignoring their behavior, or is he genuinely ignorant of the situation? I’m picking option one because my boss is actually pretty smart. He’s far from a brain-dead hillbilly. So when he does eventually call them out, I don’t want my co-workers to think that I squealed on them.

Anyway, business was pretty slow all night long, and I only made $180. That comes to $18 an hour. Pretty shabby, if you ask me.