Sick (Part Four)

Hehe, so apparently large consumptions of sugar DO boost your mood, but lower your immunities. In the past month, I’ve been sick four times. First it was a cold, then a small stomach bug, then my own stomach issues (which resulted in agonizing pain all the way from Green Bay to Chicago, and spending a portion of time confined to a hotel bed), and now I have another cold.

This bug I can’t seem to shake. I picked it up at WalMart of all places, so I could just turn into an alien…or a hick I won’t give you all the dirty details, but there’s a lot of action. It’s like a Vin Deisel movie. Starring my nasal passages.

My lack of being able to shake it could be due to the fact that for the previous week beforehand, I ate nothing but sugar, so it seems.

I’m also, unfortunately, getting increasingly sarcastic. But it’s hard NOT to be, especially with the opportunities I’ve been given. Somewhere in the Bible it says that sarcasm is a tool of the devil, but it’s certainly hard to restrain myself sometimes. Who am I kidding? I don’t exactly restrain myself.

Anyway, Tuesday I had to work. I believe I documented a few of the events, but there was one interesting episode I forgot to mention. While I was out shoveling snow, a red Jeep pulled up and a guy mumbled something to me out the window. It’s was one part British accent and three parts mumble/drawl. Yes, we are open another hour…Then he starts talking to me, and I don’t mind people talking to me, even lonely old men, but when it’s a guy who isn’t TRYING to talk properly and is frequently invoking conversation it’s like. Okay. I will get you your coffee in a minute. “Aw, naw, man, I brought mah own coffee.”

And he didn’t order anything. He was there for 45 minutes on his laptop and didn’t order anything! Isn’t that an unwritten rule of restaurants and coffee houses? If you plant your butt in the chair, even waiting for someone, you’ve kind of committed yourself to buying something. I learned that when I was 12, but apparently this guy didn’t get the memo. He informed me that he used to come here every day for about six years and is good friends with my boss.

Note. Maybe this is because after a year and a half I’m still “the new girl” and people think they can get around me, or maybe everyone dishes this with my co-workers. If they want something, they will inform you that they are “Very good friends with your boss. He’s so cool, man, we used to hang out all the time.” On an occasion or two, I’ve mentioned this to my boss who frowns and says “Oh, I don’t know them.”

And of course, there’s the always the people who refer to my boss as a “she” or “her.” Yeah. You don’t know him.

Back on course. I finish shoveling and go back behind the counter to start dishes and my pre-closing activities. Then I hear–out of no where–”‘Ey do yuh have a Facebook?” I didn’t respond right away. How could I? “Naw, I didn’t mean it like that.” Yes, I have a Facebook, and have had it about a year and a half. “Aw, b’cuz my friends are, like, ALL on here. ‘N I can keep touch wit ‘em! I mean, so-and-so’s in South Africa and my other friend is being sent to Iraq. They post pictures, and it’s so neat.” I decided to play along, and asked him if he discovered the status feature. He hadn’t. I went over to point on his screen where it was (because I’m not good with an verbal explanation) and immediately regretted stepping within a couple feet of him. His hair wasn’t wet from the snow.

“Oh! That thing. Yeah. Last night, I couldn’t sleep, so I went on the internet and posted that I couldn’t f***in’ sleep–pardon my French–and all my friends could read that!”

As tough as it is to deal with some of these people (and not even tough, but at some point it’s not even funny at that moment), these are all goldmine characters for my stories.

After all, how do you think Jack Sparrow or Jack Black came to be? The experiences of some poor barista who dreamed of being a screenplay writer