Eggsplosive Breakfast
This is the same store and employee as this story.
She has recently been made the manager of the location, and over the last few months, she has gotten to know her store, customers, and vagrants very well. This happened on my way into work at about 4 AM. I was chilling with her, drinking a Monster, and we were chatting.
The door chime goes off, and we both look up to see a very unclean man, definitely homeless, though he had on what looked like brand-new socks and shoes, a shocking contrast to everything else he was wearing.
Man: “Do… Do I have a free free?”
Manager: “I…”
She pulled out a clipboard and looked at it.
Manager: “You do, you picked up an absolute TON of trash a few days ago and didn’t cash in.”
The man smiles and shuffles away into the aisles.
Me: “What is this?”
Manager: “He picks up trash, I give him a free food thing, it’s all approved, don’t worry about it.”
Me: “Is—”
Manager: “—Don’t worry about it.”
Me: “You’re paying for it, aren’t you?”
Manager: “Keeps the parking lot clean, keeps him happy. Old manager? He used to chase this dude out of the parking lot with a yardstick. He used to purposely come here to pee on our store and throw trash around because of it. One day, he was peeing, I was chilling, I started chatting with him, and we made the arrangement.”
Me: “So that’s where the pee smell went.”
Manager: “Noticeable, right? Why are you pouring [Brand] Iced Tea into a coffee mug?”
I looked around, and the man was indeed pouring tea out of a teal/green can with a gold top into a chipped mug; he also had a small carton of four eggs with him.
Man: “The can says ‘Great Hot’ on it, it’s cold this morning, I want to try it.”
Me: “It do be cold this morning.”
Manager: “That’s going to taste horrible.”
We go back to talking, switching topics as the man starts microwaving his tea.
Manager: “So I told her I don’t care if you—”
There was a bang like a gunshot, and the microwave door flew open, expelling tea, broken pieces of mug, and a rain of yellow.
Manager: “What the F*** was that, Darren!?”
Man: *Peering into the microwave.* “Hey, do eggs explode if you microwave them?”
Manager: “WHY THE F*** DID YOU MICROWAVE EGGS!?”
Man: “I wanted scrambled eggs.”
Manager: “Well congraduF******lations you F****** got them! JESUS F***! How do you want them, prepared, Darren, ceiling or floor? For a limited time, I can also offer you WINDOW AND SHELF!”
She gestured violently with both arms at the windows and the shelves as she spoke.
Manager: “ORDER NOW!”
Man: “Am I in trouble?”
Manager: “YOU—No… no not, no… just, holy f*** that scared the absolute b****ing s***s out of me, hello, awake now.”
Man: “If… If… If I clean it, can I… can I get another food?”
The manager sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes.
Manager: “Yes… You, know what, yes… just give me the… what’s left of the carton and the [tea brand] so I can ring them in.”
The man set off cleaning, and with my help, we managed to find all of the offending bits of egg… we think. Darren ended up choosing a hot dog and eating it while I recounted the story of my last hot dog purchase (the story linked above).
It’s a good thing I drive to work so far ahead of my actual start time.
