June 17, 2008

• The Pathetic Apprentice

     
      The story of the pathetic apprentice, which I will convey to you now is a TRUE story using ACTUAL PHOTOGRAPHS.  (As for the “poor picture quality”, let’s just say the camera felt really lazy).

   

      So there I was at 5:30 in the morning, just like any other morning, flipping burgers at the Sonic Drive-In where I work.  I was flipping burgers because that is what people who don’t yet have college degrees have to do with their lives until they get one, it’s pretty exciting really.  Anyways, my manager comes up to me and mumbles something rather inaudibly.  It could be because I was playing my music too loud, but I highly doubt that.  I turned it down a notch just to be sure though, and I asked him to repeat himself.  It turns out he said something along the lines of “since you’re going to be manager in a month, I want you to train the new guy that we have coming in today, his name is John.”

  
      That’s it, that’s all I get.  His name is John.  There is a new guy coming in, and I don’t know what position he is going to be hired for, cook, drink/ice cream maker person, carhop.  All I knew, was that his name was John and that it was going to be my job to train him.  “Not a problem” I say as I work my burger making magic all over a double cheeseburger.

   
      The day rolls on, and the other workers start to arrive (the only people there in the morning are me, my manager, and one carhop).  They all go trudging about their daily mundane tasks while I fly through the kitchen like a god among men quenching thirsts, settling appetites, and pleasing customers right and left.  Some workers never even notice I’m there since my movements are like a blur.  Suddenly, as I am about to hand a customer the best tasting sundae that he has ever had, my manager comes back up to me wielding a little snot-nosed punk underneath his arm.

   
      “This is Johnathan” he said.  I gave the kid a once over.  He looked to be about 16 and seemed to be spoiled rotten.  He didn’t have his work clothes yet, so he came in clad in the preppy attire that his mother probably bought him two days ago.  I asked him if he had any fast food experience before, and he told me it was his first ever job.
      I almost died inside.
      I was supposed to train this kid who had never even worked fast food before how to work in my restaurant?  Would he be able to handle the blazing speed of the well oiled machine that I helped craft?  His bravery and dexterity would soon be put to the test.

   
      It did not take me long to realize though, that he had no established work ethic at all.  His parents probably did everything around the house for him, all the way down to brushing his teeth.  But it was time for their little Johnny-boy to go out into the world and get himself a job so he could see what it was like to work around other boys.  Unfortunately for his parents, he wasn’t about to be working around another boy, what he faced, was a man.
      After giving him the rundown of how I tight I like to keep my ship, I decided it was time to teach the boy how to get his hands dirty.  It was no shock to me when he said the only thing he had ever cooked in his life was popcorn, so I headed straight for the grill and prepared to learn him how to cook some meat.  After revealing to him all of my tricks and secret techniques, I placed the spatula in his hand and let him have a go at it.  He was ready to flip his first burger.

   
      It started off really smooth, he got the spatula underneath the patty with the grace and ease of an elephant attempting to scale a rope ladder.  The point is though, he got the flipper under that which was to be flipped, the first step in becoming a man.  A few moments later, the burger was airborne.  There was a wild gleam in his eyes as he surely felt his puberty dissolving around him while the burger glided through the air above his head.

   
      Right before it landed on my face.

   
      I hoped that this horrendously failed attempt would not be a storm crow of things to come.
      Unfortunately, it was.
      When the lunch rush hit us, I was having enough of a time trying to teach him that the “red drippy stuff” all over the patty was actually blood and not “burger juice” that I was having a hard time keeping up with the entire influx of food that had to be divided between him, me, and two other cooks.  Needless to say, I was going insane and this little mommy’s boy was bringing me down.

   
      Finally, lunch was over, and after my manager came back and blamed me for everything from the massive pile of lettuce on the floor to the dinosaurs going instinct, I was finally able to get the store back to normal.
      Half an hour later, I found myself at the switchboard taking an order from an incredibly unruly customer.  After confirming with the old hag at least 5 different times that her Coke was indeed half regular Coke poured in first, with half Diet Coke poured in second, I got the drinks ready and prepared them to be sent out.

   
      Just then however, a brilliant idea struck me like a ton of bricks.  Perhaps a small prank would be ample punishment for Johnathan’s incompetency.  I set him up with the drink tray and the old hag’s soda and gave him very clear instructions.  “If she asks you what drink it is, which she probably will, make sure you tell her that it is a cherry Dr. Pepper.”  The little squirt cheerily accepted his orders and went out to face the devil’s wife.

   
      I haven’t seen him since.

   

      Perhaps he got what was coming to him, perhaps that was his life’s lesson on being a spoiled, snot nosed, brat. 

   

     The moral of this story?  If you are a stuck up little punk, you are going to get picked on.  So don’t be a stuck up little punk.

   

      Letter of the day will resume tomorrow.
      Until next time, good luck with life.

   

  • 11:37 pm
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