Happy Wanda

 

(Wanda couldn't stop smiling.)

Yesterday, I got to the restaurant at 8:45 p.m. and had a cig at the dumpsters with Weepy Wanda. These days, she mainly works 2^nd shift. However, she enjoys hanging around after she clocks out to get high with Pork-Chop Jane. They toke their weed and discuss their boyfriends. Sometimes, they do drugs and gossip for two to three hours. I shit you not.

Anyway, Wanda was all smiles.

I said, “What are you so happy about?”

“Cindy got fired.”

Cindy is a rough-edged waitress who also works the 2^nd shift. She has a ton of tats and has been warned several times for vaping inside the establishment.

I said, “What did she do?”

“The manager doesn’t like her attitude.”

“That’s it? There must be more to the story than that.”

“Cindy’s been on her last warning for several months now. But the manager was cool about it. He said that she’s free to work at any Waffle House in the entire state of Texas. Just not at this one.”

Well, my friends, what can I tell you. They come and they go. It’s the Waffle-House way.

The night was extremely busy, but unfortunately the grill operator was Slow-Poke Benson. The kid still doesn’t know how to cook a fucking egg, and Dwayne the Dwarf refuses to teach him. Dwayne says that he’s too fucking old to be an instructor.

One of my orders took nearly 30 minutes to complete. I was afraid that my customers were all going to stand up and walk out. But most of them turned out to be jovial souls, and they waited patiently without protesting.

Slow-Poke Benson finally left at 2 a.m. And let me tell you motherfuckers something. I wasn’t sad to see him go. Waiting for that kid to finish an order is an exercise in frustration.

Then this greasy old biker limped into the restaurant and sat at the hi-bar.

I said, “Is that a Harley?”

He nodded grimly. “Damn straight, it’s a Harley. I wouldn’t ride nothing else.”

“I’ve always been afraid of motorcycles. They seem kind of dangerous.”

He nodded again. “I lost my fucking foot about a year ago after dumping my bike in the street. But I swore that I’d get back on the horse and ride again. And here I am, my friend.” He paused for dramatic effect. “Nothing in the world is going to keep me off my Harley.”

After he finished shoving the rest of his hash browns into his mouth, he left me a five-dollar tip.

At 3 a.m., a drunk guy staggered into the parking lot and took a nap right by our front door. Somebody must have called the police because three squad cars came rolling in a couple of minutes later. The man was arrested for public intoxication, and Pork-Chop Jane was asked to write a witness statement describing everything she’d seen.

This filled her with joy, and her boyfriend helped her spell the difficult words.

Of course, I was mopping and sweeping while she had all the fun. Jane is by far the laziest person I’ve ever met. Sometimes, I just want to smack her in the head with the mop. Yet she’s only nineteen, so I do my best to remain patient.

Overall, it wasn’t a bad night. I ended up with $260 dollars for the ten-hour shift.