Sac Arrow
Touchdown! Greaser!
- Joined
- May 11, 2010
- Messages
- 20,394
- Location
- Charlotte, NC
- Display Name
Display name:
Snorting his way across the USA
Okay, so, I've been working this job for a little over two years. Started out as a Burger Girl and have just been promoted to shift manager. I mean hey, this place is no Morton's but it isn't McDonalds either. I kind of like this location. Yuppieville for sure, but generally nice people and no seedy elements. Okay so there is this one customer right, he rides here on his bike every Saturday. I've seen him three or four times. They say he always orders the same thing - a lettuce wrapped double cheesburger and a side salad. No croutons.
Well he was chilling at his favorite table outside with his bike, so, I decided to be managerial and ask him how his burger was. "So, how was that burger?"
"It was magnanimous, thank you."
Okay. There has to be a story here. I want to hear it. "How was the ride?"
"It is pretty good so far. I'm at mile sixty in to an eighty mile ride."
"Wow, that's great! I should join you!"
"That sounds like a great idea!"
Okay. So..... What the HELL did he mean by THAT? Let's break this down:
1. Okay look, I know I'm a little plump yes. Yeah. I got a slight jelly roll going on, but dammit, I can push a bike better than you think I can there, buddy. I might be a little slow on the uphills but stay out of my way in the downhills. So don't be condescending. I know I need the exercise but you don't have to emphasize it. I wouldn't do the same to you.
2. I see the way you look at the other burger girls. They should be freezing the way you undress them with your eyes. They tell me they feel violated just standing next to you. Well you look at me the same way. Hell, you look at your damn burger the same way. (It is a piece of meat, right?) and the way you eat it. You start with your salad. It's just like foreplay (munching the greens, get it?) Then you just straight go to WORK on that burger. Pure focus. Total attention. You're like Secretariat in a race wearing blinders. Five minutes of intense, pure, unbridled passion. And when you're done with it, you just kick back, forget about it, and get the hell out of there as quickly as you can. It's a metaphor. When I asked you how your ride was, I saw you look in three directions. I'm not stupid. I know this town. I know what you were looking at. Hotel, motel, and Holiday Inn. The obscure visual cues were sent and received. You're thinking of riding a little more that a bike, aren't you, bad little boy. By the way I feel a little bit of a draft right now. And violated too. And you know, that I know, that you know, that I like it.
3. That was such a metro response. If you REALLY wanted to rock my world, you would have floated me a phone number. Or find some lame excuse to get my number, like by sending a text with a link to a biking club or perhaps a riding route when your true intention is to get underneath my Dickeys uniform pants. But no, you just said "great idea" and left it at that. I hope you ride home and agonize over the decision.
4. I get it. Respect. You know the pecking order here. The old general manager broad has been milking you for months for biking conversation. You probably wouldn't do her with my D if I had a D, although I assure you I don't. At the same time, you get free drinks on a frequent basis and you don't want that to stop. Putting me above her would break that protocol. And if we did hook up, after our relationship came to a natural endpoint, you couldn't go back to that well. I don't blame you.
5. You're such a pig. You wouldn't risk dissing the old broad over me but you would do so in a heartbeat with the slim little curly blonde. Or the tight little brunette. You know you would. I know you would. They know you would. She knows you would.
6. You really don't like riding with other people do you? You're a lone wolf. You never show up with a wing man. You're so stereotypical. Instead of a horse, you have a bike. Instead of a cowboy hat, you wear a helmet. Instead of leather chaps, you wear spandex shorts. Wait a minute, leather chaps over biking shorts? You aren't..... No you aren't. I still feel violated. I'll come back and check on you in a few minutes when I'm ready to go again.
Well he was chilling at his favorite table outside with his bike, so, I decided to be managerial and ask him how his burger was. "So, how was that burger?"
"It was magnanimous, thank you."
Okay. There has to be a story here. I want to hear it. "How was the ride?"
"It is pretty good so far. I'm at mile sixty in to an eighty mile ride."
"Wow, that's great! I should join you!"
"That sounds like a great idea!"
Okay. So..... What the HELL did he mean by THAT? Let's break this down:
1. Okay look, I know I'm a little plump yes. Yeah. I got a slight jelly roll going on, but dammit, I can push a bike better than you think I can there, buddy. I might be a little slow on the uphills but stay out of my way in the downhills. So don't be condescending. I know I need the exercise but you don't have to emphasize it. I wouldn't do the same to you.
2. I see the way you look at the other burger girls. They should be freezing the way you undress them with your eyes. They tell me they feel violated just standing next to you. Well you look at me the same way. Hell, you look at your damn burger the same way. (It is a piece of meat, right?) and the way you eat it. You start with your salad. It's just like foreplay (munching the greens, get it?) Then you just straight go to WORK on that burger. Pure focus. Total attention. You're like Secretariat in a race wearing blinders. Five minutes of intense, pure, unbridled passion. And when you're done with it, you just kick back, forget about it, and get the hell out of there as quickly as you can. It's a metaphor. When I asked you how your ride was, I saw you look in three directions. I'm not stupid. I know this town. I know what you were looking at. Hotel, motel, and Holiday Inn. The obscure visual cues were sent and received. You're thinking of riding a little more that a bike, aren't you, bad little boy. By the way I feel a little bit of a draft right now. And violated too. And you know, that I know, that you know, that I like it.
3. That was such a metro response. If you REALLY wanted to rock my world, you would have floated me a phone number. Or find some lame excuse to get my number, like by sending a text with a link to a biking club or perhaps a riding route when your true intention is to get underneath my Dickeys uniform pants. But no, you just said "great idea" and left it at that. I hope you ride home and agonize over the decision.
4. I get it. Respect. You know the pecking order here. The old general manager broad has been milking you for months for biking conversation. You probably wouldn't do her with my D if I had a D, although I assure you I don't. At the same time, you get free drinks on a frequent basis and you don't want that to stop. Putting me above her would break that protocol. And if we did hook up, after our relationship came to a natural endpoint, you couldn't go back to that well. I don't blame you.
5. You're such a pig. You wouldn't risk dissing the old broad over me but you would do so in a heartbeat with the slim little curly blonde. Or the tight little brunette. You know you would. I know you would. They know you would. She knows you would.
6. You really don't like riding with other people do you? You're a lone wolf. You never show up with a wing man. You're so stereotypical. Instead of a horse, you have a bike. Instead of a cowboy hat, you wear a helmet. Instead of leather chaps, you wear spandex shorts. Wait a minute, leather chaps over biking shorts? You aren't..... No you aren't. I still feel violated. I'll come back and check on you in a few minutes when I'm ready to go again.
Wow
