A Day in the Life

 

What a crazy night at Davanni’s! First, I arrive through the doors, then I greet my manager and fellow co-workers. As I head towards the back to get two aprons on, I try looking for my name tag, but I struggle to find in on the unarranged pin tabs, then after a minute I find my name tag and punch in on the computer. As I tap my name on the screen, another tab pops up, preventing me from getting punched in and I get annoyed.

I then say to myself, “God, one of these days I am goanna lose it. I mean really, all I ask is to be punched in; that’s literally all I ask for.” After getting help from my manager, I get right to work on the dish area, which is a total mess. I then ask my manager Jake, whom I nicknamed Jakeatron, “who is in charge of the dish area when I’m not in the kitchen?” He responds, “Walter, you know everyone here has a task of their own, you can’t expect others to do the jobs that are yours.”

After the talk with Jake, I get to work on those dishes. Then I head to the dining room to see if there are any tables that need clearing. As luck would have it, there are indeed two tables that with trays, plates, and cups spread around them. I know this is going to be one busy night, but at least I only have to work until 9.

I continue my work in the kitchen on the dishes, but as I load them up in trays and run them through the dishwasher, more and more keep coming. It feels like in the Lord of the Rings movies. No matter how many orcs the heroes slay, more of them show up. I keep up the hard work with the dishes but can’t help but look at the time. When I see the clock, it’s only 7:20, but considering the amount of time I’ve been working, it feels like an hour later. I then talk to one of my co-workers Sam. “Boy Sam, what happened to our world, I mean ever since the Covid-19 kicked in, life on Earth hasn’t been the same.” Sam replies, “Yeah well, you know what they say, it could always be worse.” “Gee, why isn’t that making me feel any better?” “Because you still can’t help but to be negative about…” But before he finishes his statement, I interrupt him. “Sam, that was a rhetorical question?”

I then get back to work on the dishes. I can’t tell the time, but judging from how wet my pants feel, I assume it is close to 9. I walk over to the oven area to look at the clock. To my surprise, it is actually passed 9. I then ask my manager if I can punch out, to which he says “yes.” After I leave the restaurant, I hope in my car and turn on the heat to warm me up. All I can say to myself is, “I sure hope Mom has something warm for me to come home to, because after all that hard work, I could really use some macaroni and cheese. Oh yeah, that’s what I call pleasure food.