With a smile of gratitude, I whisper, "Thank you."
She hums, steps in my place, and says in a sassy voice, "You can get your own napkin on your way to get a new plate of food. Next!"
I wade through lingering groups of teens where the giggles seem to be growing, straight for the employee's restroom in the back.
You're probably wondering what exactly had to go wrong in my life to make me decide to take a job as a cafeteria worker at a private school, right? Well, that makes two of us. But you want the truth? It's the pay and flexibility. My main priorities at this point in life are finally graduating and being able to pay for it. Ollander Academy has given me wiggle room to do just that. You see, it's not just a simple private school. No. From what I understand you have to be on the waiting list for this place by the time you're fresh out of diapers. The tuition alone is high enough to rival what I've been scraping to pay in my college education and the interview process for both parents as well as students is on par with the hoops you go through trying to work for Google. While you've seen the obvious downside to such an elitist school, the upside is they pay their employees more than you'd expect and I don't just mean the teachers. Most of us not in the classroom make what the average teacher does in the public school system. They basically hired me to be a fill in. An extra pair of hands to help cover vacation days, sick days, and any other cafeteria grunt work they could conjure up around my class schedule. For the record. Oven cleaning? Bout as much fun as a routine vaginal exam. Haven't had one of those since I got an IUD put in three years ago. What? Too personal?
After using a damp paper towel to wipe myself down and glass cleaner for my glasses, I head towards for the front, thankful this is the final round of lunch being served. As soon as she spots me, Bernice motions her hand for me to help in the back instead. Relief instantly washes over me.
Would you really wanna be the subject that breaks up their afternoon gossiping about who is cheating with who? I didn't think so. And yes, they're always that vicious. I've been here since August, and I'll be the first to say teenagers are mean. Both boys and girls. That's right. The guys are just as cruel verbally and physically. The worst part about the whole experience isn't even the mind-boggling way they treat each other, it's the fucked up way they treat us. Like we're all just servants for their whims. You wouldn't believe how many of these private school teens treat the staff like we work directly for them. Like they're at home and their parents could walk in to fire us for not bending to their demands. It's disheartening to say the least. Awe. Don't worry too hard. Just a few more months of this, and I'll be free to pick a job that's less torture. Or at the very least will have the opportunity to.
The rest of my shift consists of prepping a few items for the opening breakfast crew, washing the dishes along with drying them, wiping down all the tables once the room is empty, and cleaning the floor. By the time I'm pulling into a parking space at my apartment complex, my feet are debating whether or not to just fall off in defeat. It takes a moment longer than I want to collect the items that fell out of my bag when I was forced to make an abrupt stop in rush hour traffic, but it's the digging for my disappeared cell phone that pushes my lingering irritation over the edge.
Just as I unlock the front door, my roommate, Jovi and her boyfriend, Merrick, are coming out of her room on the opposite side of the apartment.
"There you are!" She exclaims joyfully.
She's just naturally cheerful. We first met in A Thousand Words, A Thousand Pictures, a class I swear whose sole purpose is to weed out those who only picked art as a major because they thought it was going to be easy. At that time her joy seemed forced, but after her boyfriend moved to town, I realized she was just love sick. She's been a bright ray of sunshine ever since she's been back in his arms.
Jovi's mocha colored face instantly becomes concerned. "You're home late."
"And messier than normal," Merrick chuckles.
Stop staring...He's not that attractive. I mean...I guess if you're into the hot, tattooed, bad boy thing with a heart of gold or whatever. Yeah, I'm full of shit. He's a hottie and madly in love with my adorable roommate. They're so cute sometimes it's sickening.
After flashing him my middle finger, I sigh, "Relax. I'm fine. Margret just happened to decide today would be the perfect day for me to clean on top and underneath the tables."