The Freezer Diaries

When I was 16-years-old I worked at Arby's fast food restaurant. I worked at the counter sometimes but mostly in the drive-thru since I was the fastest they had there. I hated working there. I disliked the people I worked with, I reviled taking orders for food that would most-likely kill the person ordering it, and I detested the smell of the place. Even to this day when I see the sign for Arby's I can smell the roast beef.

I never really felt like I fit in there. There was no one my age or with similar interests as me. When I arrived to work everyday, I had to take my things to the back of the restaurant. To do so, I had to pass the kitchen where a man named Alfredo worked. He was a 50-year-old Spanish-speaking man who was, let's say extremely affectionate. Every-time I came back there he would stop me and not let me through until I hugged him and said, "Hola, como estas." It was truly creepy. This kind of social environment and the nature of the work was why I had such deep loathing for that job.

One day I was working at the front counter and drive-thru alone. It was extremely slow that day. I remember only seeing our usual costumers there. There was a lady who always came in around noon to get a Diet Coke, no ice, as well as a small curly fry. She would sit there, eat her curly fry, and finish her Diet Coke. There was also a man who came in every day to get the Big Beef n' Cheddar combo meal.

It was the definition of slow so naturally the cooks were blaring their Spanish music. Alfredo, my special touchy-feely friend, was serenading me from the food window. I suddenly heard the door chime. I looked over and saw the largest man I have ever seen. He came up to the counter, wheezing from the trip into the store. He was inquiring about a coupon, "Are you still honoring this coupon?" His massive sweaty hand dropped a crinkled coupon on the counter. I picked it up as his droopy eyes stared down at me. It was damp so I tried to make as little contact with it as possible.

The expiration date, clearly listed on the front, showed that it was still good. I said, "Yes, sir we are still honoring it." The coupon gave the consumer a deal of five roast beef sandwiches for $5.95.

The corpulent man, now sweating profusely, had an expression of glee on his face. He said, "I'll take it… uh they freeze good." His eyes seemed to suddenly shift about at the prompting of this statement.

I paused for a moment, stared at him, and said, "Yes… I'm sure they do, if you freeze them." The man gave me a look of undeserved superiority, as if it weren't a lie, then paid for his order. I placed his order. In a few awkward moments he took his to-go order to the dining room and proceeded to eat every last disgusting roast beef sandwich. By the time he finished his third sandwich, I couldn't bear watching any more of this hideous display of gluttony.

I was alone at my post and really had no one to talk to so I turned to organize some things. The condiments were contained in a grey plastic box on the counter behind the registers. I took them all out and started to stack them by flavor. I was in a trance and forgot about my surroundings. I was nearly half way through my task when I heard something. It sounded oddly familiar but I could not place it. What was that sound… is something leaking, is someone whistling. The smell of musty sweat filled the air. Then I realized. The sound was wheezing!

The incredible roast beef disposal unit was back. I whirled around. There on the counter was another soggy, crinkled coupon and standing in front of me at the counter was the largest man I've ever seen.

Cirque du Soleil

I own a cat.  His name is Hector Ayala.  He is a very inquisitive cat who is also tremendously fearful of loud noises, slippers, and large people.  I also live with a large deafening man.  Hector tends to spring into the air whenever there is something loud or big coming at him.  The large man thoroughly enjoys these kinds of reactions.

One day Hector Ayala, named for The White Tiger from Spiderman comics, was wandering the living room.  He was minding his own business smelling my guitar.  He loves to smell things.  I tend to believe that he has a nose fetish.  So, he was sniffing around, when all of a sudden, the cable went out.  There was a thunderous noise of static coming from the television.  I heard a thud from under the end table.  I muted the gargantuan boob tube and peered around the sofa.  Hector was twitching his head around looking for the source of the mysterious commotion. 

 

I held back a laugh while watching him walk over to the now muted television.  I waited and watched, which is a great way to discover something wonderful.  As soon as he put his front legs on the TV stand I took the television off of mute.  He leaped into the air and did somewhat of a back flip.  I thought to myself, "Hector would have a lucrative career in the circus."  The thought of becoming a stage mom brought me back to reality.  I decided not to try making millions with an acrobatic cat. 

Hector had worked up the courage to start smelling the TV again.  Stupid cat.  I took it off of mute again and he skyrocketed once more.  This time there was a great roar of laughter coming from my direction.  He gave me a look of pure loathing.  I could tell he was thinking, "You imbecilic human, if ever I develop thumbs, it shall be the end of you."  He is much more eloquent than I. 

I decided to not push my luck anymore with the wondrous sound of static from the television… after the sixth time.  

The Games of Potatoes

My mom died when I was 13 years old, which is probably why I have such a sunny outlook on life.  When people complain about things that don't really seem to matter, I tend to think, "What the crap does this have to do with anything?"

I lived with my grandmother for a short time during my adolescence.  My help would often be requested for things such as vacuuming, taking out the garbage, and cooking.  On one such occasion my grandmother asked me to wash, peel, and cut the potatoes for dinner. 

Smallville was on and I found the lead actor, Tom Welling, to be quite dreamy.  With much grumbling I made my way to the kitchen.  This was a very hard thing for me.  After all, Tom Welling is really beautiful.

I got to the sink and with a great fiery ball of fury building in the pit of my stomach I silently washed the potatoes.  As I was doing this, my grandmother was getting out a pot.  She came to the sink and said, "You don’t need to stand right in the middle of the there.  Other people need to use the sink as well." 

The fire grew.

I finished and began to the peel the potatoes.  She came back to the check on the progress of the boiling water.  She glanced over… there was suddenly an arctic chill in the air.  "You shouldn't push so hard when you peel.  You're wasting too much potato."

Fiery darts suddenly shot forth from my eye and her head burst into flames. The sound of Smallville in the background brought me back to reality.  My mood was no longer victorious but there was defeat in its place.  I could feel the fireball growing. 

I quickly finished peeling started to chop the spuds.  First, I cut them in half around the middle and then in quarters, then eights. 

I heard the sound of slippers on linoleum.  It was grandma again.  I clenched my teeth.  I was hoping she would keep the criticism to herself.  I was stupid then. 

"You're cutting them wrong.  You should cut them lengthwise first!"  She grabbed the knife from me and said, "Oh, I'll just do it myself." 

The fireball extinguished.

I just smiled sweetly to myself as I sat back down to watch the rest of Smallville.  There are always winners in the games of potatoes.  

The End

I love and miss my grandmother.  I feel unbelievably lucky to have had such a weird/wonderful time with her.  She gave me so much to be grateful for including a lot of really funny stories!

Everyone's A Comic

There is something distressing about having to make small talk with strangers.  When working retail, this is a common occurrence.  For a short time you are a small part of their life.

Retail customers actually feel they can make a difference in the dismal lives of cashiers.  They know if they make a "quippy" remark on how much they are spending, it will transform this brainless job into something worthwhile.  As if hearing stale jokes over and over will somehow fill the hollow void this numbing job leaves with you. 

In one day I heard six different people, as they handed me cash, say, "Hope those uhr' good.  I just printed em' this mornin."  These remarks are always followed with, what I can only describe as, great Appalachian laughter.  Something inside me snaps each time I hear these poor attempts at humor.

A short time ago I was working at cashier station three.  There was an endless line.  I said, "I can help who's next over here."  

This greasy man walked up and said, "Hello cashier #3.  Is that really your name?" 

I made a sad attempt at laughter and felt my soul shudder.  I asked, "Did you find everything alright?"

"I found a little more than I was wantn'.  Those sales guys is good", said the grotesque man standing before me. 

I quickly decided that there would be no more conversation between the grease monster and myself.  I ran the transaction through as fast as possible and he kept trying to make ridiculous comments about the store and how "perty" everything was.  After I finished the transaction, wincing a little, I asked, "Is there anything else I can do for you?

He replied, "Well it seems I just spent a monster truck load of money here.  You got a million dollars I can have?"  There was a roar of thunderous hillbilly laughter and I closed my eyes for a second to imagine myself anywhere but cashier station #3.

 

Who Do I Think I Am?

Okay, I know The Dark Knight was a while ago but I was looking at some of my old photos and found this one.  This is us in my apartment wearing the t-shirts that Brando made for all of us for the premier of The Dark Knight.  He worked really hard on them.  He first drew the picture, then made a positive and negative stencil, then he used an acrylic paint and then heat set them with the iron.  It was a lot of work but I think it was worth it.  I still wear mine all the time... in fact that is what I am wearing right now... how strange that I wrote 'I wear them all the time' without realizing I was wearing the exact t-shirt I was talking about.  Man, I am so self absorbed!

I have been very busy.  I have decided that I am going to start writing down the stories from my youth.  I have been using all of the crazy days that I spent with my grandmother.  I really want to be able to remember them forever because they are some of the most interesting human interaction stories I have.  

I have also been writing stories from work a lot.  There are always really great stories whenever you have access to the general public.  There are some really strange people out there.  

I don't keep a journal but I figure this will be a great way for my children to look back on my life.  Besides, I really enjoy writing.  It is a great release when something has gone wrong in the day and I can find a way to put humor into it.  I guess that has always been one of my talents.  I am not saying that I will be the great American novelist or anything but I really do like it.

The Luck of the Draw

I hope no one has tired of hearing my tales from that ever so gentle work environment of mine because I have another.  

I woke up and could tell the day had an ominous black cloud hovering over it.  On Labor Day I was working in the customer service department.  This was supposed to be good news, as I would not have to deal with nearly as many customers waiting in line to buy merchandise.

I woke up with a feeling of great dismay, as I knew that even though I was working in the customer service department it would still be busy and I would be dealing with grouchy customers. 

The night before there had been a torrential downpour that had found its way through my car window.  I arrived at work with a cold wet, butt.  Not happy.  I pulled into a spot, noticing all of the people in line, turned off the car, and got out.  As soon as I got out there was this man... lets call him moped man who was blocking the way to get into the building.  I decided to do something out of my nature and I smiled and said, "Hello."  He just looked at me and said, "You can't park there.  Park across the street."  I got back into my soaking wet car and drove across the street.  The parking lot there was full though so I decided to parallel-park on the street... not my best talent but I managed.  

As I got out of the car I saw a monstrous puddle going the entire width of the street.  I had no choice, I had to try and jump across.  You can only guess what happened.  Yes, I misjudged my vertical leap abilities and landed right in the middle of the puddle.  I had a nice shiny shoe full of muddy puddle water.  

I walked into the store, fuming, and told one of my supervisors about it... he laughed.  I guess my anguish is funny.  The rest of the day was fine until my very last service call.  

I answer a call and there is a woman on the phone who tells me she has a gift card from R.C. Willey that she was unable to use and was wondering when it would be activated.  I did a gift card search on her account and came up with no active gift cards.  I then looked in the open orders screen and found a gift card attached to her open order.  It said that it was voided so I inquired a little further.  It turns out she had already been issued another gift card for that same order for more money.  As you can guess, you are only supposed to be issued one gift card per order and I explained this to the lady.  Then I told her that the gift card that had been issued to her had already been used towards fabric protection on the order she received the gift card for.  She then got huffy and said, "Who authorized that to be put on a gift card."  I told her that it was her sales associate who put it towards her order.  Then her husband gets on the phone and I tell him the whole story and he says, "I want to talk to someone who's competent... Get me to my sales associate!"  Then he proceeded to swear rather loudly in my ear.  I said, "Sir you need to calm down so I can help you."  He continued to swear and again called me incompetent and asked for someone else so I said, "No sir, I will not get you to someone else" and hung up the phone.  

I was thinking of a career in sniping.  I feel that it would do a lot for my people skills, because I would not have to try to develop them anymore.