If you have been reading along you might mistakenly get the impression that working the late shift at Tim Hortons is all sunshine, lollipops and stoners coming through the drive-through, but I am here to tell you that you are wrong. Yeah, I have touched on some negative things like The Buddha Baker perhaps having rabies, and drug deals going down in the bathroom and in the parking lot, but I don't believe I've really hit the nail on the head about the pains that go into an 8-hour midnight shift at Tim Hortons. It's not all ice caps and creme-filled donuts and you can bank on that!
Making egg salad at 1 a.m. is not like cooking a birthday cake for grandma in the afternoon. The eggs come out of a plastic bag smelling like Nicklas Lidstorm's jock strip after three periods of playoff hockey and an overtime period to boot. Not only do the eggs smell like butt, but you have to mix it in with mayonnaise (one of the more questionable condiments) and all these other stinky little vegetables. Even the eye of newt stew - you know, what the witches make - has to smell better. Nobody really orders an egg salad and I really don't know why we keep making it.
I know waiters and waitresses have to stand for long periods of time - yes, it sucks - but what really bothers about the food industry is wearing a hairnet - and for 8-hours straight. I feel like no good ideas can escape from my brain because the hairnet is holding in all of my imaginative thoughts. Plus, I feel like a lunch lady every time I slide one on.
The headset makes me feel like a robot. The Buddha Baker and I rarely ever talk face to face; instead, just through the headset. When I talk to customers in the drive-through line there is a real echo effect that makes me feel like I am giving an acoustic concert to an empty stadium. So unless I am saying things like, "10-4," "Over and out," "Chrrrer, I think we have a bad connection, chrrrrreeer," I don't like the headset because I am not a robot. I am man and you can bank on that!