Post by Andrew William Wright on Jun 1, 2020 16:42:39 GMT
AnDy wright
The more i see, the less i knOw
It had been a long day for Andy, or at least, that’s how it had felt to him. For some reason lately, his social anxiety seemed to be acting up, or something; because he’d started finding people extra intrusive, pushy, and in general rude- even though he knew nobody had been any more obnoxious than usual. However, there was the one exception that brought him to the point where he was at now- brooding through the streets, on his way to the local bar...
~About half an hour ago- at the Snout N’ Trout Diner~
The flattop grill popped and sizzled with the grease from the afternoon, and Andy scraped the burnt bits of meats and cheeses off, tossing them into the trash. He looked up to the tickets with a huff, and planning to make the last order of his shift, he threw a few fresh burgers down. From somewhere in the front, he watched Richard slink into to the kitchen and walk in his direction. Andy usually called him Dick, but he was a nice enough type of guy not to get angry about it- which was the whole joke, anyways.
“Hey, Andy- uh... there’s a couple out here at table six that wanted to ‘speak to the guy who made this crap’, “ He used quotes, to imply it was not his choice of wording, and set four empty plates down on the dish wrack. He gave Richard- actually, more like Dick at this point- a deadpan expression, looking between the plates and his co-worker.
“I know, man, I’m sorry...” He gave him an apologetic shrug, and Andy trudged by the shorter male. He knew it wasn’t his fault, he was just the bearer of bad news.
He pushed through the double doors leading to the dining area, and headed towards the dreaded table six. There was a portly couple sitting across from each other, with a matching child beside the woman. All of their expressions held an irritated air about them, and he could feel his right eye twitch already with the annoyance this encounter was sure to bring. The man was tapping his finger on the table, while the wife contended with a ketchup stain on her son’s face.
“Hi, my name is Andy, I’m the cook- you requested to speak to me?” He spoke as he stepped in front of the trio, and attempted a smile which he was certain looked more like a grimace. The father sat up to say something, but his wife butt in first, beating him to the punch.
“Yeah! Our food came out of that kitchen cold, and you burnt little Jeffery’s nuggets! He has sensitive gums- he can’t be eatin’ no burnt up chicken!” She yelled at him in a heavy southern accent, tucking the napkin she used to wipe her kid’s face into her gaudy purple purse. The hefty lady proceeded to stand up from the booth, Andy took a step back to allow her the space; he squinted his eyes at the woman as she fished out a stick of gum from the hideous pocket book, and popped it into her mouth. She was lying, he hadn’t sent their damn food out cold, or burn any freaking chicken nuggets.
“Ma’am, that’s something you should tell our manager, if your interested in getting your money back-“ He was used to redirecting complaints from time to time, but the the lady cut him of as well.
“No, we don’t want no money, we want you to re-make our orders- and make sure you don’t burn the chicken this time!” She wagged her finger at him, and slapped the wad of gum around in her jaws nosily- he could smell the onion and mint waft up to his nostrils.
“But you ate all of the food I sent out-“ He started, but was cut off again; this time by the child whining.
“Momma, I’m still hungry!” His chubby cheeks were red with impatience, and he tugged at the hem of his mother’s floral-print T-shirt.
“Don’t you worry baby, I’m getting you some more nuggets right now.” She patted her son’s head, then turned back to Andy.
“You hear that? He needs somethin’ to eat ‘cause he couldn’t eat your over cooked chicken! You better make our food again, or we’ll get your ass fired real quick, mister!” She poked him in center of the chest this time, and it took everything inside himself in that moment not to get angry.
“Alright, ma’am,” He grit out through his teeth, pushing her hand away from his chest, “I’ll re-make your food, and have somebody bring it out to you. I apologize for any inconvenience this may have brought you.” He turned to leave the three, and as he walked to the door the man shouted one last thing to Andy.
“And can I get extra pickles on my burger this time?!” His chin moved and his neck folds bounced with his words as they left his lips. Andy managed to muster one last reply for the man.
“Sure thing, sir!” He made certain it would be loud enough for them to hear, so as not to receive anymore complaints from the family. Upon returning to the kitchen, he came back to find the burgers he had placed on the grill before leaving were smoking and blackened on one side. He breathed in deeply, and released a heavy sigh as he began cleaning the grill over again...
~Present moment~
So he had to make the two orders again before he was able to clock out for the day, which was a completely unnecessary task, because he hadn’t done anything wrong to begin with. It ended up making him work an extra forty five minutes that he really wasn’t supposed to, so to sum up the day, he was probably more pissed off than he should’ve been for his usual self. But that was just it- he had felt the slightest bit off for some reason, even if he wasn’t able to say precisely what was off though. Andy trudged down the final stretch of sidewalk towards the entrance of the Alma Mater, then proceeded to push his way through the doors. Upon entering the pub he immediately looked to the bar hoping to spot his favorite tapster. He was happy to find her there- Sylvia Russo, his girlfriend of two months, she was a sight for sore eyes; at the moment his eyes felt quite worn, but her beauty was certainly something he could look at.
He slumped into a booth without bothering to greet her, seeing as it was the evening she was rather busy making drinks. So he decided he’d just wait for her to finish what she was up to, or if she noticed him and decided to approach- whatever happened first. He brought a hand up to squeeze at his temples, to try and ward off an oncoming headache. He was so frustrated that he couldn’t seem to understand why he was simply so irritable lately; it was like he was having male pms or some shit, he did consider the fact that he’d been around a woman for a significant amount of time. However, this hadn’t happened in any of his past relationships, therefore he wrote it off as a personal issue. What exactly that issue was though, he couldn’t really pinpoint.
No matter what the hell was going on in his brain right now, he knew one thing was for damn sure: His ass was ready for a drink.
𝕝 𝕠 𝕤 𝕖 𝕣 ♡
~About half an hour ago- at the Snout N’ Trout Diner~
The flattop grill popped and sizzled with the grease from the afternoon, and Andy scraped the burnt bits of meats and cheeses off, tossing them into the trash. He looked up to the tickets with a huff, and planning to make the last order of his shift, he threw a few fresh burgers down. From somewhere in the front, he watched Richard slink into to the kitchen and walk in his direction. Andy usually called him Dick, but he was a nice enough type of guy not to get angry about it- which was the whole joke, anyways.
“Hey, Andy- uh... there’s a couple out here at table six that wanted to ‘speak to the guy who made this crap’, “ He used quotes, to imply it was not his choice of wording, and set four empty plates down on the dish wrack. He gave Richard- actually, more like Dick at this point- a deadpan expression, looking between the plates and his co-worker.
“I know, man, I’m sorry...” He gave him an apologetic shrug, and Andy trudged by the shorter male. He knew it wasn’t his fault, he was just the bearer of bad news.
He pushed through the double doors leading to the dining area, and headed towards the dreaded table six. There was a portly couple sitting across from each other, with a matching child beside the woman. All of their expressions held an irritated air about them, and he could feel his right eye twitch already with the annoyance this encounter was sure to bring. The man was tapping his finger on the table, while the wife contended with a ketchup stain on her son’s face.
“Hi, my name is Andy, I’m the cook- you requested to speak to me?” He spoke as he stepped in front of the trio, and attempted a smile which he was certain looked more like a grimace. The father sat up to say something, but his wife butt in first, beating him to the punch.
“Yeah! Our food came out of that kitchen cold, and you burnt little Jeffery’s nuggets! He has sensitive gums- he can’t be eatin’ no burnt up chicken!” She yelled at him in a heavy southern accent, tucking the napkin she used to wipe her kid’s face into her gaudy purple purse. The hefty lady proceeded to stand up from the booth, Andy took a step back to allow her the space; he squinted his eyes at the woman as she fished out a stick of gum from the hideous pocket book, and popped it into her mouth. She was lying, he hadn’t sent their damn food out cold, or burn any freaking chicken nuggets.
“Ma’am, that’s something you should tell our manager, if your interested in getting your money back-“ He was used to redirecting complaints from time to time, but the the lady cut him of as well.
“No, we don’t want no money, we want you to re-make our orders- and make sure you don’t burn the chicken this time!” She wagged her finger at him, and slapped the wad of gum around in her jaws nosily- he could smell the onion and mint waft up to his nostrils.
“But you ate all of the food I sent out-“ He started, but was cut off again; this time by the child whining.
“Momma, I’m still hungry!” His chubby cheeks were red with impatience, and he tugged at the hem of his mother’s floral-print T-shirt.
“Don’t you worry baby, I’m getting you some more nuggets right now.” She patted her son’s head, then turned back to Andy.
“You hear that? He needs somethin’ to eat ‘cause he couldn’t eat your over cooked chicken! You better make our food again, or we’ll get your ass fired real quick, mister!” She poked him in center of the chest this time, and it took everything inside himself in that moment not to get angry.
“Alright, ma’am,” He grit out through his teeth, pushing her hand away from his chest, “I’ll re-make your food, and have somebody bring it out to you. I apologize for any inconvenience this may have brought you.” He turned to leave the three, and as he walked to the door the man shouted one last thing to Andy.
“And can I get extra pickles on my burger this time?!” His chin moved and his neck folds bounced with his words as they left his lips. Andy managed to muster one last reply for the man.
“Sure thing, sir!” He made certain it would be loud enough for them to hear, so as not to receive anymore complaints from the family. Upon returning to the kitchen, he came back to find the burgers he had placed on the grill before leaving were smoking and blackened on one side. He breathed in deeply, and released a heavy sigh as he began cleaning the grill over again...
~Present moment~
So he had to make the two orders again before he was able to clock out for the day, which was a completely unnecessary task, because he hadn’t done anything wrong to begin with. It ended up making him work an extra forty five minutes that he really wasn’t supposed to, so to sum up the day, he was probably more pissed off than he should’ve been for his usual self. But that was just it- he had felt the slightest bit off for some reason, even if he wasn’t able to say precisely what was off though. Andy trudged down the final stretch of sidewalk towards the entrance of the Alma Mater, then proceeded to push his way through the doors. Upon entering the pub he immediately looked to the bar hoping to spot his favorite tapster. He was happy to find her there- Sylvia Russo, his girlfriend of two months, she was a sight for sore eyes; at the moment his eyes felt quite worn, but her beauty was certainly something he could look at.
He slumped into a booth without bothering to greet her, seeing as it was the evening she was rather busy making drinks. So he decided he’d just wait for her to finish what she was up to, or if she noticed him and decided to approach- whatever happened first. He brought a hand up to squeeze at his temples, to try and ward off an oncoming headache. He was so frustrated that he couldn’t seem to understand why he was simply so irritable lately; it was like he was having male pms or some shit, he did consider the fact that he’d been around a woman for a significant amount of time. However, this hadn’t happened in any of his past relationships, therefore he wrote it off as a personal issue. What exactly that issue was though, he couldn’t really pinpoint.
No matter what the hell was going on in his brain right now, he knew one thing was for damn sure: His ass was ready for a drink.
𝕝 𝕠 𝕤 𝕖 𝕣 ♡
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