The Springfield store has an extra employee come in at 5 a.m. This was crucial because the last time I worked there it was with Dwayne The Brain McClain, who couldn't tie his shoe in a slight breeze. The guy was a real louse.
Bryson was the name of the dude that came in at 5 a.m. He was hot-shot employee with the handbook tattooed on his ass. It looked like his uniform has just come from the dry-cleaners and he was proud to be wearing it. He had washboard posture.
I took the orders and handled the money. I let Bryson handle the rest. The guy was doing origami with the parchment paper and could fill a double-double before I could I say, "How 'bout an ice cap, eh?" I found myself just watching him in action. It was like watching a bee build the hive. He had some serious Tim Hortons' skills. I hope I never have them.
We got really busy and Dwayne The Brain McClain was off somewhere sucking his thumb, so I had to start filling some of the orders. I was making an ice cap. I put too much goop in. I started mixing the thing and it over-flowed. Bryson saw what I was doing and nearly had a heart-attack.
"What are you doing?" he said in a snide whisper. "You never put that much in."
I wiped down the cup and handed it to the lady who ordered it. With a smile on her face she told me, "You can make my ice cap anytime, hunny."