Ronald McDonald Called, He Wants His Gig Back.

I almost feel bad, like I need to pare this entry down…I feel like it’s going to be a long one, but maybe I can be succinct. Okay, for starters, I mentioned yesterday that people are weird (aka- clown guy, too strange). Well, people are amazing, sometimes too. Witnessing firsthand the strength of people doing amazingly resilient things, like surviving when all odds are against them.

A couple came in today and walked up to the counter, looking helplessly homeless and disgusting and WAY too close for comfort to my personal space, namely my olfactory receptors. Guests are guests, I guess, I immediately pasted on a shocked, eyes not blinking smile (Stepford wives fashion)…

(Shamefully I wanted them to get away from our counter, pronto! Because I felt like they were bad for business. I certainly didn’t want them touching anything…how horrible is that?). They asked if they could use the phone and then sit inside while they waited on a friend to come help them with their car. They motioned out the window and despite the fact that I didn’t expect to see a car, I did. If they could call it a car. No exaggeration whatsoever, this was like a flintstones car. I wouldn’t have been surprised to see a dinosaur pet pop its head out the roof. The car had no taillights at all, not just missing the red part, but the bulbs and everything. Just gaping holes. One headlight, the other a gaping hole there too. Both doors were makeshift from another brand of car. The car didn’t have a color because there was no one surface area big enough to really justify being painted. All of the “car” was scraped together from different brands. The “trunk” (I use the term lightly) was being held to the car with rope, not good strong rope, but rope from a dumpster (rope that I actually saw in our Starbucks dumpster when I took the trash out yesterday). Anyway, I got a really good look at the car when I outside later on a break. There is no way that car could be legal. They barely had a windshield. The first thing I thought was, when they filled out paperwork on Make and Model and Year…what on earth would they write?!? I guess they wouldn’t have that problem as they probably didn’t deal with much paperwork. That wasn’t a car- that was four wheels and a running board. (lyrics from a song my mom’s dad used to sing)
My initial response was, “Sure, you can have a seat anywhere…” and I wanted to ask if they wanted some towels to wipe off their faces and hands and stuff so that they wouldn’t scare people away. Not surprised they could be dirty when they were practically pedaling that car down the street. Instead, I asked if they wanted cups of water, and as much as I wanted to offer them coffee, I wanted MORE for them to be out of my line of sight and smell. PLUS- I didn’t want them staying longer than necessary. We have our fair share of loiterers and panhandling, the last I wanted to have to do was ask them to leave if push came to shove and they tried to stick around all day…

The guy said, “Sure! Water’d be great! We haven’t had much good happen to us lately, so anything is appreciated. My wife just got through beating colon cancer.” Okay, so either this was a great feel-sorry-for-us story or these people had really hit a rough patch. So, I broke down, “Do you want to share a cup of coffee while you wait?” They said No…so I scratched off “panhandling” from the list. Whatever, maybe they were just broke down in their “car” and having trouble getting to wherever they were going… I went back to work, doing my MOD thing (manager on duty, but I prefer the initials, as it makes me sound incredibly hardcore and cool… “Ya down with M-O-D? Yeah, you know me…” Don’t act like you don’t know the song…)

Half an hour passed, the “friends” showed up, in a very nice, new car, gave the flintstones some gas from a container, didn’t bother to come in and get any coffee, didn’t even come in to say thanks for helping, just hugged the couple (yuck! Again, how horrible is it that I was thinking that?), handed them the red gas container, waited to make sure the car started (miraculously it did, as well as emitted about a day’s worth of smog into the air from the front and the back of the car in the process), and the friends left. The guy came back in and said “Thanks so much!” and he left. I walked over to the door, kind of waved, and kept that shocked, deer in headlights look on my face. I had nothing to say…speechless.

These people didn’t want my help nor need it. I wasn’t going to save them…they were stronger than me, even if they barely had a car and probably didn’t have a really nice, soft bed with super clean sheets and comfy pillows to sleep on, curled up in an air-conditioned room. I had never beat colon cancer, but I did have to call my roommate in college once to bring me gas, so maybe I’m stronger than I thought! Hhhmm?

As I was getting ready to come into my apartment tonight, I thought about the couple. My job isn’t exactly a “clean” job. (I’ve had the “clean” jobs before…where I could shower in the morning and still feel that clean after a full day of work because it was an office, sit down job). I mean, I’m not blue collar, doing construction in the heat or anything. And I’m certainly not working up a sweat all day, but even if I just make three drinks, I can guarantee that I will have some kind of concoction on my clothes, hands, and arms. And tonight was no exception as I unlocked my apartment door, I looked down at my forearms to notice dark brown streaks (not too dissimilar from self-tanning lotion gone horribly wrong) running from my elbows to my wrists.

In my show-boating of making three Frappuccinos for a family this evening somewhere between the homeless couple and closing time (at a time when I sent the barista to the back to do dishes), I got a little delirious and my confidence was running extremely high. Please imagine- me with two blenders, pouring espresso, milk, syrups, ice, all at warp speed while trying to spin the whipped cream metal containers on my fingers before I spray it on top. Then picture the whipped cream hitting the drinks, knocking them all three onto the counter while the customers watch, their smiles turning into looks of horror in what felt like slow motion, it was pandemonium for a brief moment. Needless to say, drinks were re-made all around and I sent myself to do dishes.

Where’s the clown when you need him???