5/7 (Wayne)

Part I

            Meet Wayne. Wayne was always the odd one out. Although he had terrific parents who supported all of his endeavors, he never had any confidence to speak of. He was always bad at sports, the girls never noticed him, he had terrible acne in high school, he was timid and didn't have a lot of personality, and overall, he was just an easy target for bullies. He was still a virgin by the time he finished college. Eventually, things evened out for Wayne, although he was always wary of things from his childhood.

These days, Wayne looked just like any other recent college graduate during the Great Recession. He had finished college with a strong GPA and a handful of great professors who would be more than happy to write him letters of recommendation, and now he was screwed. Fresh out of college, there were no credible jobs to speak of; he’d applied to over forty of them during the first month after graduation. It didn't help, of course, that he was terrible at interviewing. The clash of his comfortable home-life and the world around him had always left a sour taste in his mouth and now that he was an adult, he was quickly becoming very, very bitter.

Fortunately, he wasn’t entirely out of options: as a last resort, his friend Paul from college had been able to set him up with a job as a waiter at a very upscale restaurant in the city called The Pearl. Wayne figured he’d go that route until he was able to get on his feet and land a real job.

Wayne didn’t really know how credible Paul’s connections would be at The Pearl because apparently he hadn’t worked there since high school. However, Paul must have impressed the hell out of the manager, Tim, because Wayne got hired on the spot.

“Come back tomorrow afternoon to fill out the paperwork and we’ll make a schedule for you,” Tim said with a hint of a southern accent. Wayne breathed a sigh of relief on his way out into the parking lot; at least he could earn a bit of cash and occupy his spare time now. To make everyone proud of him, Wayne was determined to take the job seriously.

Training Day was long. He arrived two hours before The Pearl even opened so that he could get a crash course on all the ins and outs of the place. “These are the three chefs and those are the cooks,” Wayne’s trainer explained in a curt and aggressive, almost condescending tone. “This is the freezer and that’s the deep-freeze freezer…. This is table 1 and that’s table 26.” Wayne looked at two tables that were right next to each other. “This is how you place an order in our computer system, which will get sent right to the cook over there. Do it this way unless it’s a special order, such as ‘no salad dressing,’ in which case, it will get sent to the other kitchen for the chef’s approval before he sends it to the cooks’ kitchen.” Wayne had gotten an A in his calculus class in college, however, that was all a breeze compared to the complexities of the restaurant industry. “Here’s the training manual. Read it over night and you’ll be tested on it next week.” He took a sixty-six page manual that, as he would find out later, was mostly the autobiography of The Pearl’s founder. No matter, this was all part of the job, and just his parents had always told him, anything worth doing is worth doing well. Wayne stayed and shadowed the other wait staff until well after The Pearl closed that night. That was the first time Wayne had ever spent fourteen straight hours on his feet.

Wayne was well-prepared for the next day: he had studied the majority of the manual, and memorized the restaurant’s menu from their website. His shirt was pressed and his shoes were shined. His only goal for today was to impress Tim.

“Hey, Wayne, come here for a sec,” Tim said as he saw Wayne walk in the front door. Wayne figured he’d have a sit-down with Tim and work out his weekly schedule. He was eager to go see the other wait staff again.

“Wayne, we’re gonna have to cut you. You’re done here.”

“For the day? But I just got here… I’d be happy to just keep shadowing if there’s a scheduling conflict.”

“No no, you don’t understand, you’re cut. It’s not working out. We’re over-staffed, and our policy is last hired, first fired.”

Wayne was shocked and confused and his mood changed instantly. It had actually been a long time since he was rejected so outwardly, but it was still a familiar feeling.

Four minutes after he’d walked in the door for his first real day of work, Wayne walked out of The Pearl. As he crossed the lobby to go out to the parking lot, he was replaying everything in his head. All of a sudden, he saw a bubbly, pretty brunette who looked about three years younger than himself skip in through the revolving door. She walked straight toward him, sticking out her hand with a big smile. “Hi! I’m Eva! You look like you work here!” Wayne looked up, noticing that this girl had the same southern accent as Tim. “Can you show me which way Tim’s office is? I just got hired. He’s my uncle and said that if I ever needed a job, there’d be one waiting for me if I ever came out to California!”

“Tim’s office is right over there,” he gestured. “Good luck, Eva.”

This was quite a bit for Wayne to all take in at once. He sat in his car for a minute or two trying to process everything. He was starting to lose it. “That fucking piece of trash,” Wayne cursed. He felt the familiar sting of the world giving him a punch in the face, and, feeling secure with himself in his car, he returned the punch by slamming the steering wheel before he drove home.

Part II

Wayne wasn’t able to get another job for the next month and a half, and while he knew that that was no one’s fault, he was still upset with Tim. Wayne spent the rest of the summer stewing in his frustration over The Pearl. Frustration turned to anger and one day he decided that until something better comes along, he would start relieving some tension and go pay a visit to The Pearl.

Ire does a funny thing to a man. It changes him in a way that nothing else can. It fuels a unique kind of strength and aggression; it gives a man purpose.

The following Monday, when The Pearl had the fewest people on shift, Wayne stopped by the restaurant for a late lunch. Unsure of himself at first, Wayne told himself over and over that he just had nothing to lose. He figured a Monday afternoon was his best chance at seeing Tim pick up some of the slack. Sure enough, the hostess sat Wayne in the section of the restaurant where Tim was indeed serving a few patrons. When Tim came to the table to take his order, Wayne ordered a bowl of soup, a house salad, and a cup of coffee. Tim complained, averting his eyes at first, that his soup was too hot and had Tim bring him a different salad, saying that he’d been given the wrong dressing. Of course Wayne was giving him a hard time, but it was impossible for Tim to argue; it wouldn’t have been professional. After his meal, Tim came by to drop off the check in one of those fancy black booklets. Wayne took his time, staying another half-hour or so. When he was ready to go, he put his credit card in the booklet and stood it up on the table. Tim ran the transaction. Wayne signed the receipt, writing “gratuity on table.” Still unsure of whether he could go through with it, Wayne forced himself to go with his plan: he put four pennies in his empty coffee cup and walked out the door. It actually felt pretty  good.

He had similar meals on the following two Mondays, rationalizing to himself that Tim had ruined his summer. It was easy, too, because restaurant policy dictated that the customer is always right.

These interactions at The Pearl made Wayne feel like he was in control. This confidence was an unusual emotion for him, and he soon learned to love it. Finally, Wayne felt the power of being the bully for once (although leaving insulting tips was just bullying in his own way). Falling in love with being able to affect others but still not satisfied, Wayne decided to step things up a notch. Eventually, he came to The Pearl during the evening for dinner wearing nice khakis and a freshly-ironed polo shirt (The Pearl was a very fancy establishment, and Wayne of course wanted to fit in). This time, Eva was his waitress and Wayne felt a little bad. It wasn't fair that Eva would have to suffer the consequences of Tim’s irresponsibility that night, but still, Wayne had to prove his point. After a fifty-six dollar meal, Wayne again left his tip on the table. Four cents. Tim gave him a dirty look as he walked out that night.

A dirty look. The audacity of that son of a bitch had, giving a look like that. Wayne maintained his composure and pretended not to see Tim.

A dirty look. It was another punch in the face. This one was the attack that finally ignited Wayne’s fight or flight response. Enough was enough.

Now was the time to take off the gloves and stand up for himself once and for all. Tim’s dirty look burned in Wayne’s mind, fueling his rage. He needed to give it his very best shot and prove to himself and the world– which had delivered so many wrongs– that he was ready to fight back. He just needed something more creative this time than shit tips.

Part III

The pet store sold Wayne two mice and a rat. Now, Wayne of course had never been the type of sadist to torture animals; he in fact found that sickening. Nonetheless, the young man wasn’t quite Wayne anymore. The world was beating him up: still no job, no girlfriend, no blue skies in sight, and no ambition other than the drive to get even with his bully, Tim. Wayne decided that he was finally ready  to step up and rise to the occasion.

He gently put the two mice and rat– all still alive– inside three separate Zip-Lock bags and buried them in the basement freezer in his parents’ basement. Next Monday would be Labor Day, The Pearl’s busiest (and most profitable) night of the season. That Saturday, Wayne defrosted his furry little martyrs and donned a sport coat (as he needed several pockets).

Wayne ordered a steak when he got to The Pearl. Practically a regular these days, he figured that his server must be new because he couldn’t recognize him. Just before dessert, Wayne stepped away from the table to use the restroom. Once in a private stall, he took the two dead mice from his coat. He removed them both from the plastic bags and placed one carefully behind the toilet, making sure it was just visible enough to be noticed. He took the other and put it up his sleeve. Wayne washed his hands and pocketed the baggies on his way out of the restroom. Once seated again, Wayne kept his hands under the table as he took the rat out of the third plastic bag. He dropped it on the ground between his feet and waited for an opportune moment, during which, he quickly kicked the rodent’s body under the table to his left. Wayne felt a little bad for his new waiter, and so he left a thirty-percent tip, telling the boy to enjoy his holiday weekend. He still wasn’t done yet though. On his way out, Wayne let the last mouse fall from his sleeve as he passed of the revolving door.

He went to bed that night with a level of confident satisfaction that he had never known. On Monday– Labor Day– he drove by The Pearl to find the lights off and an official-looking sign in the window: By Order of The California State Department of Health, This Establishment Will Be Closed Until Further Notice. Wayne drove away, cracking his knuckles and grinning.