Part 4: 16 oz

Leaning back on my chair with my feet propped up against the cashier’s stand I cannot believe this day isn’t over yet. Glenn, my supervisor, has gone home for the day which means I don’t have to sit up and I don’t have to smile anymore. Six o’clock rolls around and we have our usual dinner rush of a whopping five or six people all at once. Of course they all time it so they’re crowded around the Pepsi machine at the exact same time. Because the cashier’s stand is all of 3 feet away from the drinks they have effectively engulfed me along with the towers of paper cups and leaky soda fountain.

A few have managed to make their way over to pay and placed their trays on the counter on either side of me when a man comes in with a hat and sunglasses. He towers over everyone at the drink station and sweeps in grabbing the smallest size paper cup. He holds it up to show me and asks if it is the 16oz size. Still leaning back I nod to him. He keeps looking at me through his sunglasses. I think to myself, alright, I admit that was a little rude of me so I say out loud, “Yes, that’s the 16oz size.”

The man leans forward so he can see my eyes from under my hat. He looks straight at me for a while then his eyes slowly travel down to the nametag clipped to the collar of my shirt. He looks up at my eyes again and pulls his sunglasses down so he is peering at me through the little gap made by the brim of his hat and the top edge of his sunglasses. Again, he looks at my name tag and back at my eyes. As he slides the glasses back into place he quietly mutters to himself, “Interesting.”

He then turns and walks away, still holding the empty cup.