brrr. BABY IT'S COLD OUTSIDE

I haven't added a story in a while, just the Jehovah's Witness List. Don't get me started. Even Michael Jackson left that crazy cult. (Only to leave it to live in Never never land, complete with --ew nevermind.) My in laws are JW's, as they like to call themselves. I saw this documentary on WACO (acronym for "WE AIN'T COMIN' OUT") Texas and the Branch Davidians there, and there's some organization that you can pay a painful amount of money to kidnap and deprogram them. If I ever hit the lottery, I'm going to have my husband's whole family "re-learned". On the other hand, look at all the money we save at Christmas. There's never an argument over where we are going to on Christmas Eve either. Here's a truckstop story.

At one point in time, my two "little" brothers and my "little" sister worked at the truckstop with me. In fact, they got me the job there. I took a year off to finish my degree, and play at the beach all summer. When my savings ran out, yes, it was time. Time to get the dreaded three letter word J - O - B. I cried when I got hired. My new boss handed me a red polo with a ten point buck embroidered on it like the little polo player on Ralph Lauren shirts. Far from Ralph Lauren. I thought I was far above this job, and trust me, I've had a lot of crummy jobs.

Before this, I took care of "mentally challenged persons", which was okay. I know why that job field has a high turnover, it is very stressful. It wasn't the clients though, it was my co-workers. They were a bunch of awful people just waiting to turn each other in for some type of infraction of the rules. I finally walked off the job one day, told my boyfriend to hit the bricks, and start fresh. Which I did. Little did I realize that it would land me into the "Buckhorn Family Restaurant." (Click that link, I know, it is the Marriott of truckstops. MOST of the waitress have their own teeth and their biological children living with them.) With a ten point buck on my shirt, and a three pocket apron as a nice accessory, I realized all pride was gone at the time.

Until I started to make some money. I made far more there than I ever did at a respectable job. Truck drivers leave a $20 dollar tip for coffee and a joke, or even a phone number. (Let me just add that I left the local time and temperature number (814) 452-6311, or the local state police as my phone number, along with a fake name. ) To boot, you get to lie about it on your taxes.

So, my brothers and my sister and I worked at the same shit hole for quite some time. It was actually pretty fun. I would sneak into the walk in cooler with a fork to chow down on carrot cake, only to see my sister doing the same thing. Our boss would walk in and say, "Did you pay for that?" My response always was, "NO. I brought it from home."

One thing I never really counted on was getting to use my French. After four years in high school, and three years of it in college, I had always planned to use it IN FRANCE. French Canadian truck drivers pass through western PA by the thousands, and even though they would rather have a "Tim Horton's" Latte, they would stop to have coffee, and try to teach me dirty words in French. I eventually did get to use my french in France, and hailing my first taxi to the Louve in French proved most satisfying. (Those were my first french words in France.)

So after returning from France, and realizing my proficiency in a foreign language, I got cocky and tried to use it on the truckers. Big mistake. Even though they sound eloquent when they ordered coffee or french fries with mayo, (YUK) they were still the stereotypical truckers that we all know and love here in the U.S.A. So, one day, this guy (old, grandpa old) said something about a kiss, so I said in French, while offering my cheek "Baissez-moi" and he laughed out loud. I was puzzled, and then felt stupidity to the tenth power, because by this time, I knew I said something way wrong. To make a long story short, if you ever tell somebody "Baissez-moi" --- It translates to the slang "FU** ME". At least I got a good tip and learned something new "en Francais".

My old boss, who will remain unnamed, has the worst speech impediment. (Let me first say that I am not making fun of people with speech impediments.) When I first met him, I didn't notice it. One day, he said, "Oh, Hewwo dere Geowge". He sounded just like Elmer Fudd. I thought he was kidding around with me, so I said, "Fine dere mista woberts." The room fell silent. He froze. I froze, I think the flames on the grill even stopped for a minute. He said, "Awr woo making fun of my Bridish accent?" British accent? Huh? "Oh stop it," I said. "That's no Bridish accent!" and then he walked away. A cook came up to me and filled me in. Can you say open mouth insert foot? Good start to a crummy job.