Know What’s Funny?

I’m of the opinion, and I always have been, that whatever I think is funny, is funny, and if you’re not one of the ones laughing, then your either humorless, don’t get it, or you’re an asshole. And when I say, “You’re an asshole”, it’s usually only because you’re offended, or what I’ve just shown or told you offended you in some way.

Guess what? Everything is funny.

Teaching all these years, I’ve tried to instill into my students the importance of climbing the corporate ladder, starting at the bottom, and being the gopher. It never ceases to amaze me the level of entitlement that some students show in regards to their burgeoning career. Will you get paid well in the industry? Sure…eventually. But it is absolutely necessary to start at the bottom. In order illustrate the concept of starting at the bottom, I usually spin one of my “Low Man on the Totem Pole” yarns. It’s usually this story, or the one where I worked on the Bozo show with an alcoholic clown, but this one usually gives me a sense of what I’m facing teaching over the next 10 weeks.

And it’s funny.

Not only is it funny, but it’s a timely tale. Whenever my kids ask me for some money, or to buy them some new piece of electronics, or some Hannah Fucking Montana piece of crap, I usually remind them of this story. My kids think it’s funny…but they also get the meaning of the story, and how you have to start at the bottom.

I should preface this by saying I’ve told this story thousands of times over the years, to various people. Students. Friends. Potential clients. Clergy. Always, at the end of the story, I really get a sense of whether the person is humorless, doesn’t get it, or they’re an asshole. I’m sure the details have changed over the years, but this is how I remember it all going down. There’s only one part of the story I lie about. The end.

I used to work in fast food. After all these years, I like to end the story with “…and I have never eaten fast food again.”, but the fact of the matter is that there is nothing better than a fast-food bacon double cheesburger. On top of it, there’s nothing like having that burger after a night of drinking, and following the delicacy with a cigarette. Pure ecstacy. So yes, I usually lie about the ending, and try to sound healthy, but truthfully, I’m a fucking mess.

So at 16 I got a job in the grill at a fast food restaurant. I like to believe it was so I could make some scratch so I could go on a date, and possibly get laid, but I think my parents wanted me the hell out of the house. After working there for two years, I was promoted to cook, although the entire process was pretty automated. I told people that I was a chef, but honestly, that was only because I smelled like grease.

The final summer I worked there, was one of the hottest summer of the early 90s. If I had to guess, the outdoor temperature clocked in at about 95 degrees, which would have put the grill in at about 120. Because we were a franchise, we were frequently visited by the district manager who would scrutinize every move we made. I still believe that their only purpose was to remind us that we were doing a shitty job, and only getting $3.25 per hour, but I use to laugh at the fact that this person who was pushing 50 was still working at this shit hole. He’s still there, actually.

So it’s 120 in the grill and this smell starts to permeate the area where we’re cooking food. I can only describe the smell as a cross between raw sewage and dead bodies. I haven’t been around too many dead bodies, but I can only imagine this is what they smell right. Mister District Manager comes back into the grill, takes a sniff, and sends Kevin back to get a fan, to prevent the smell from reaching the precious customer’s noses.

Let me describe Kevin.

Kevin was 30 years old. A “Lifer” we used to call them. Most of us knew, or hoped at least, that this job was only the first rung of our work life, but Kevin was clearly there for the whole run. Quiet, and with a blank stare Kevin made it through every work day with the knowledge that he knew exactly how to steal at least 2 meals during his shift without anyone ever knowing. As a result, Kevin was also 150 lbs overweight, which earned him the nickname Fat Ass, a name which he really didn’t mind. He probably didn’t have the mental capacity for anything, nevermind that he was usually in charge of cleaning. Nobody liked him.

Kevin went to go back and get the fan. I meanwhile stand there “cooking” starting to giggle at the stench that’s hovering around the food, and the dopey customers waiting to feed their spoiled brats who are on summer vacation. Upon returning with the oversized fan, we all notice the goop coming through the grates in the floor.

Those of you who have worked in food service know the grates in the floor that I’m describing. They’re there for spills and cleaning the floor, and like most grates, they’re for exit only. Today, however, the humor gods smiled upon me, and there was raw sewage coming back up, through the grate, into the grill. It was a slow constant flow.

Raw sewage, where we’re cooking food.

The district manager, realizing that Kevin is suddenly a plumbing engineer, decides to yell at him for the problem at hand and berate him for losing customers. Customers who, by the way, can’t even smell the sewage, let alone have any idea that it’s anywhere near what they’re about to consume on the way to the baseball fields.

“Kevin, GET BACK THERE and get a mop to clean this shit UP!”, he screamed. It never dawned on this genius to keep it down in front of the customers in line. I guess working in fast food all these years had somehow lead him to believe that a fan would prevent people from hearing him yell about cleaning up shit, whether or not they actually knew it was really shit. So Kevin wanders to the back to get the mop and bucket. I suddenly start the small convulses trying to hold back laughter.

Have you ever seen raw sewage? It’s thick. Imagine trying to mop it up. Got it? Ok, now imagine you’re an overweight 30 year old fast-food employee moping up thick raw sewage in the grill of a restaurant, while a manager is yelling at you to clean the shit up, all the while customers are in line waiting for the food.

Kevin eventually filled the yellow mop bucket with raw sewage. Placing the mop into the holder of the bucket, he dejectedly pushed it towards the back, with the intention of emptying it, and starting the process all over again. I watched as Kevin brought his bucket of sadness by me, only to catch the bucket on the edge of the table, and not only spill it’s entire contents onto the floor, but also to nail a perfect swan dive directly into the spill on the floor. Slowly standing up, and staring at the mess of his uniform, he promptly vomited all over himself.

I couldn’t contain myself at this point. The rest of the employees in the grill were mortified over what they were seeing. I just laughed. The entire situation thus far was absolutely hilarious. My stomach hurt. I couldn’t catch my breath. I thought I had seen everything that day, but it wasn’t over. Sewage was still coming in, and Kevin was standing there in raw sewage and his own vomit.

The district manager comes back to the cooking area, and says his exact same line again, only louder this time, and with a better cleaning method.

“Kevin, GET BACK THERE and get the SHOP-VAC to clean this shit UP!” Kevin changed into what I can only describe as a uniform for a card carrying member of the Lollipop Guild, with his stolen cheesburger gut hanging over his pleated pants. Wheeling the shop-vac in, he cleans his spill, and stands there sucking up the steady stream of sewage still coming into the grill. And this is when I heard the greatest idea ever. Only a manager of a fast food restaurant could have this brilliant idea.

“Take the grate off, and stick the hose down into the pipe! Just suck it out!”

Not “Let’s close the store”, or “We should call a plumber”, or “Jesus-Fucking CHRIST, there’s shit near the food!”. Nope. They wanted to play Roto-Rooter, and take care of this problem themselves.

Arming himself with a screwdriver, Kevin removed the plate from the drain, and stuck the end of the hose into the pipe. Flipping the switch, the vaccuum started to hum, and the two members of Genuis Plumbers nodded at their work approvingly. It was on the third nod that the suction from the pipe sucked the entire length of the hose down into the pipe, pulling the vacuum onto it side, and jumping around like it was having a gran-mal seizure. As it rocked violently side to side, it splashed sewage everywhere. Crew members ran as if they were on fire. Customers were trying to get a view over the counter as to what the commotion was.

And I was laughing. It was by far, the funniest sequence of events I had ever seen. It was funny on so many levels. Sewage in the vicinity of food. Kevin wearing a uniform that was too small because he had vomited on himself. An amateur plumber with a great idea. A restaurant that stayed open through what was essentially a major health crisis. And it was funny as hell.