When I was in college, I worked in a faux-fancy restaurant in an Atlanta suburb. The owner was a coked out French guy, and the kitchen was staffed with Mexicans, Jamaicans, Dominicans, and various other ethnicities who were all either totally silent or completely ridiculous and boisterous. One of the latter was named Markus, a Colombian guy who called me “Bruiser” for no apparent reason.
Once, in the dead of August, the power went out. Since the lights were low in the restaurant anyway, and there were candles on every table, the owner refused to close the restaurant. The kitchen was full of gas burners, and with no A/C and no working fans, the temperature quickly climbed well above 100 degrees. Sweat was pouring off everyone. The waiters and waitresses, whenever they could steal a few moments away from their tables, were rolling up their sleeves and helping to hand wash all the dishes. It was madness.
At one point, Markus finally reached his breaking point. He threw down his towel, looked me in the eyes and exclaimed, “I can’t stand this heat! I’m getting out of the kitchen!” and stormed out the back door. I never knew if he just made a fucking hilarious joke or if he’d just haphazardly stumbled upon one of the most common cliches in the English language. I laughed pretty hard, though.
Hey folks, I need a story of some kind of self discovery for my podcast. It can be drug induced, coming-of-age, finding out some sort of secret truth, whatever. Roughly 10 minutes, recorded however you can. Email me at corybyrom at gmail if you’re interested.
I also need a short, 2 or 3 minute unsatisfying story. Something that seems like it’s going to build to something awesome, but fizzles.