My Night Job; Episode 6, "Spankonia"

For the past few nights, it's been me and Snapper closing out the cafe. Baby Boy was supposed to be with us, but he called out all week due to a car accident. He made the call so he's okay. Meanwhile, we've had special guest stars filling in.

Two nights ago, Won't Go Away Girl Jr. decided she had a crush on Snapper in Baby Boy's absence. What exactly bugged me about her is inexact. She literally stands at the counter while I and Snapper are cleaning and putting things away. She followed him around as he wiped the tables. They spoke about. NOTHING. I was only concerned as far as that she slowed him down from a more efficient closing job because he returned her inane, preteen "So like, totally, omigosh" conversation. Again, I don't know why it bugged me. It was only an extra ten minutes, which we got paid for anyway. And the poor girl was lonely and bored.

But at the time all I kept thinking was, Go AWAY! It's not our responsibility to entertain you, you moonfaced urchin!

Yes, I'm working on improving the attitude.

Last night was much better for several reasons that I'm not even sure which to name first.

To begin--Snapper didn't snap as much and we had friendly banter, even though he speaks way too loudly for polite conversation. But because I have flirted with lady customers and pointed out the beautiful after they've walked away (just like a true neanderthal, I admit--but being at this job makes me feel sexy, so I act sexy) Snapper feels he can do like I do, and return the comments as well. So he was telling me about the butt of a woman that, if she offered him the chance to spank, he said he would do gladly. As for myself, I didn't understand and I shared that with him. "What would you get out of spanking a nice butt?"

My confusion really threw him for a loop. Perhaps I hadn't relayed this before, but Snapper is a little slow. I keep him on the register because he can't make drinks as fast as I can, and when he is on the bar, he's always calling across the cafe to ask me how to make something anyway. So I just let him go where he shines. And I stay where I can shine. And we're a happy little cafe that way. But he couldn't tell if I were being sarcastic or serious with my spank question. Thankfully.

Because I was being serious. But since I project such a sexy confident image, he couldn't imagine that I wouldn't be into "Spanking that ass" He doesn't know how awkward and obsessively analytical I really am. In other words, a big ol' nerd.

Well he couldn't answer the question for me. It was just something that turns him on. Huhn? I mean, I'll spank if requested, but I don't see where I'll get anything out of it personally. I mean, are there nerves in my hand that will trigger some kind of pleasure from living in the land of spankonia? Inquiring minds want to know.

Which brings me to the main topic, despite the name of the post.

How I met your mother.

At the beginning of the week (or was it last Friday?) a new employee came down to the cafe, who I will heretofore call The New Employee.

She fascinated me from the split second our eyes locked. I was already in midsexy, mixing a drink and having already passed on some witticism earlier which had New Kid, Snapper, and Attention Deficit Annie amused. I'd also insured that a few customers were satisfied in the afterglow of the drinkgasms I'd given them, so I was on top of the world.

Then up walks The New Employee. She was introduced to me along with all the cafe staff, yet it felt that she linguered on me longer. (Male ego powers, activate!)

"How're you doing tonight?" she asked.

I weighed all the possible answers I could give. I settled on, "I'm managing. But I'll be great when my baby daughter wakes me up and says, 'Happy Birthday, Daddy!' But she doesn't exist just yet. So... yeah."

At that point I realized I'd just fallen off my lofty perch of sexy self-confidence. What a rookie!! What. Was. I. Thinking?? Was there any recovery? I opted for a quick finish. "Way more information than you wanted to know, right?" says I.

She said, "No, man, you just sometimes have to let it out."

That was a few nights ago.

Now, last night, I was sitting at the timeclock in the back, wolfing down my dinner, waiting for the last few minutes to fade so I could punch back in, and here came The New Employee. She grinned as I sat in her path to the clock. "How's your night going?" she asked.

A second or two passed because I felt That Thang Inside drifting forward. Going out towards her as if she had it on a fishing line. It's like this--she's half a head shorter than I am. She's the shade of cappucino with long black hair. Her voice is like cinnamon dolce, dusky with earthpower. When she speaks to me, I hear Kathleen Turner, Suzanne Pleshette, and India.Arie all saying my name at the same time.

So I responded with the only thing I could think of. "It's getting better now."

So there she went, punching out, and here I went, punching in. And suddenly there this big poop-eating grin on my face that I can't get rid of. What was going on?!

And I thought--is this--what is going on--am I--um--? No way!

Then like a lightning bolt out of nowhere, I knew what to do! I got back to the cafe and called The Linebacker. This is the name I've decided to give the male store manager with whom I have flirted with and decided not to anymore. He's built like a linebacker and looks like a Duke University frat boy who's had three too many keggers. And still undone was the way I was going to officially stop the flirting I had done, in case he really was gay and was thinking I was fair game.

So I called him to the cafe and told him I had a personal question I had to ask him. "What's the name of The New Employee?" It was all over my face. He knew why I was asking.

The Linebacker warmed to the idea instantly. He didn't seem crushed or disappointed at all. In fact, he got right on it, going to her department to get her name, and even flirted (see what I did there) with the idea that he could go into her records and get her age for me. He drew the line there though. Unethical much? But in one fell swoop, I confirmed two things.

1) The Linebacker now knows I'm not gay, without my having to embarass myself or him. And I think he's not gay either. The way he not only lit up, but went puppydoglike to help me out with her name, seems to be an indication that he supports my hetero-ness more than he'd support my homo-ness. I mean, he still might be gay, but he'd still be my friend too, and that's the best way to get out of the sitch that I, like an idiot had put myself in.

And 2), I am crazy about The New Employee. I swear, it's like I'm making all this up. I wish I had a dollar for every time someone told me that when I stopped looking, that's when I'd find her. And yes, I know--better than you could possibly imagine--that this isn't necessarily The One. I mean, it's only been two chance meetings. But the existence of sparkation and spankonia, coming out from nowhere, is like a clear sign that I've still got all sorts of potential. If New Employee doesn't dig me, or if she's married, or lesbian, or if she's only just turned 19, or if she's a druggie, or has five kids and three baby daddies, or whatever of a million other reasons exist Why It Won't Work Out, I still know what I want. I know what I like. I know what turns me on. Girls like The New Employee.

So that's all right then!