Friday, April 15, 2005
 
Conversations with counter help volume 1.
Picture it. Fort Worth, TX. A fast food chain whose name rhymes with Barbies, and has a funny looking cowboy hat on their sign. Your fearless blogger forced to go in.... because the lady at the window tinting shop told him not to roll down his windows for three days. 8:00 PM.

Me: (Looking at empty restaurant)You all are really poppin tonight eh?

Counter Clerk: (A large young woman with dirty blonde hair and barbecue sauce stains on her uniform.) Yeah we are. What are you having?

Me: I am not sure yet. What is good?

CC: I really like the cheesesticks.

Me: That is drunk food. That is like 3:00am Denny's stuff after a night of Canadian Hunter with two Puerto Ricans.

CC: I used to have a fake ID but I gave it to the police officer when he raided a bar.

Me: Always a good idea.

CC: So... What are you having?

Me: A roast beef sandwich, a small curly fry, and a large diet coke.

CC: Here is your cup. Fill it with what you want.

Me: OK. (Walk over to soda fountain )

Manager: You doing alright man?

Me: I get better all the time. How about you?

Manager: I am alright.

Me: Thats good. (Punching the Diet Dr. Pepper button)

Manager: Are you a married man?

Me: Let me tell you something about my wife. She does not write, she does not call, not even a gawd damn e-mail from her. I thought for a while her e-mails were getting held up in my spam guard, but that was not the case.... Hell, I have not even met her yet.

Manager: Is that some slick way of saying no?

Me: (Thinking gawd I hope he does not try and set me up with his sister or something) I guess so.

Manager: Let me tell you a thing or about women and marriage.

Me: (Thinking to myself "This ought to be good".) OK.

Manager: Uh yeah. Imagine them doing the worst possible thing to you. If you could take them back after that you know they are keepers. My ex wife she stole money from me and then fucked around on me.

CC: You can't say the f-word to a customer.

Me: It is alright. So, you say ex.... I guess she wasn't the one eh?

Manager: He is cool, we can cuss in front of him.

CC: Well then, here is your fucking sandwich.

Me: Can I have some sauce.

CC: Fucking aye.

Me: Both kinds please.

CC: You bet your sweet white ass. Mo fucker.

Manager: Umm, lets not call him that.

Me: It's cool. (Thinking "she is whiter than me."

Manager: Fuck it then.

Me: You guys have a good night.

CC: Keep it real player.

Me: Aight.

CC: That was one cool mother fucker.

Manager: Straight up.

Me: You fuckers behave.

CC: Hell yay.

Me: (To myself) Why does this shit always happen to me?

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