More Writing about the Waffle House

I've still got to finish my "shift in the life" series. I'm not sure when I'll get around to that. I hate to say it but these last couple of days working at the WaHo have been downright dull. It isn't as if we haven't sold a lot of food. It's been really busy a couple of days. But I guess the sheen of it all has been smudged by frequent use. There's bacon grease on what was once the emmaculate face of my grill experience. The past is clogged and obscured with waffle batter, and the future is but an eggy film slowly turning greenish brown in the summer heat. I am living day to day in a world dominated by hashbrowns, and noisy waitresses who can't stop complaining about their singularly strange lives. Honestly it's not the cooking and cleaning I mind so much as I mind interacting with those crazy women... some mothers, some divorcees, some drug addicts of one degree or another, all complainers. Complaints are what seem to keep these women going. It's only a matter of time before I end up on somebody's list of complaints. I'm living in fear. It's an annoying way to live. Additionally, it seems the complainers attitude has rubbed off on me. Fuck.

I went out drinking with a couple of waitresses and their boyfriends and roommates the other night. That was interesting. One girl got completely sloppy clobbered on bud light. I thought she was a complainer sober! Sheesh. She wouldn't stop. We ended up at Denny's where I was introduced to some cocaine-dealer friends of theirs, and we all split a couple orders of nachos, chili fries and fried cheeze mmm mm good! I will most likely elaborate on these experiences in the future.

Also, last week I worked with a woman who wore clown makeup. I don't think she intended to look like a clown but, that was the achieved effect I'm afraid. The lengths people will go to defy their age are sometimes astonishing. And when cosmetic surgery is (for whatever reason) not an option, the results of such heavy applications of pale powders, burnt rouges and scary-as-hell eye-liner is, well... scary as hell. I will say one thing, the makeup lady, was not a complainer. In fact, she was a hard worker. She kept the dishwasher going full speed ahead. She got all of her sidework done ahead of schedule, which is a good deal more than I can say for just about any complaining waitress. She barely said a word to me the whole shift other than to ask me where the whisks or the skillets were kept or something like that.

So there you go.

One last thing, our Juke Box runs on vinyl records! How cool (outdated) is that. The Juke Box maintenance guy even gave me three records from it when he came in yesterday. The only problem is, I don't have a vinyl record player. So, if anyone wants any Waffle House vinyl just holler.