25 years and now I'm frying

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
a man loses his job and doesn't know what to do now

Submitted: April 17, 2012

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Submitted: April 17, 2012

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My name is Bob, I am a carpenter, and I hate my job. Wait let me rephrase that, I hate my boss. It just so happens today my boss pushed my buttons too far. I was standing in his doorway, arms crossed over my chest, brows scrunched together, and eyes trained on him. His eyes were staring down at the paperwork on his desk, he didn’t look up, didn’t say, “Well hello Bob. How’s your day going?” There was nothing in his expression that even told me he had recognition of my presence. What a pity. It was 7:00 A.M on a Sunday morning and I can’t believe he was being an arrogant pain in the butt.

“Hey boss, how’s your day going? Oh how I hope it has been as grand as my own. Would you like to know what I have found in my work van this morning? I found a co-worker sitting in the driver side saying he was taking my job today and all the days after that. So boss, or can I even call you that? What’s going on Smith? Are you seriously firing me? I’ve been working for this company for 25 years and now you’re going to fire me?” That is the biggest piece of bologna I’ve heard in a long time. I can’t believe you…” he finally looked me straight in the eyes silencing me with his emerald stones bulging out of his face. His face became a large ripe tomato on top of a large sausage like neck.

“Bob you’re old!” his boss sat up straight and pushed against his desk to roll back his chair. “I don’t want to ever hear from you again! Here is your last check, now take it and leave my office.” His short and stubby fingers grabbed his pen from the desk scrawled his John Hancock on the check and pushed it in my face.

I grabbed the check from him and stalked out of the room like a four-year-old not getting what they wanted. I reached for the keys at my side as I walked to the blue 1992 Ford F150 extended cab that was parked in the far right corner of the parking lot. I put the keys in the ignition and unconsciously drove myself to Big Mike’s Fry Grill, my everyday lunch stop. I parked in the usual spot, two spaces right of the handicap parking space. I walked through the double glass doors into the classic restaurant.

All the tables were glass with stainless steel legs that glistened under bright over head lamps. The stools had cherry red cushions and they also had the same stainless steel. I walked up to the front podium and stated my name. The white hair lady took me to my favorite table. It was right next to the kitchen, a window, and just outside the window sat a large red oak tree. I took my seat and blandly asked for the usual.

“Double stack bacon cheeseburger with a large side order of onion rings and a medium pibb?” her tone was calm and cool. I gave her a look that probably would have stopped a charging bear. She walked off and two seconds later big boss Mike himself was sitting in front of me.

“I got a proposition for you.” His voice was low and had a growl to it. From his apron he pulled out a silver spatula. “You love this place, so take this and go to work.” I started to protest, but his hand was in my face. “I don’t want to hear it! You’re working for me. I don’t want to hear any protest.” A smile came over my face and I took the gleaming spatula from Mike’s hand.

“Thank you.”

I went to work the next day, made burgers and fried food till I was ready to fall over and sleep. I was finally happy.

My name is Bob, I am now a fry cook, and I love my job.


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