Categories > Original > Humor > Five Minute Soap Dish
Week 17
"I make meals. I clean dishes. I load trucks. I do all this. I'm good at all this. So why do they put me down as a waiter, where I have to be civil to people? The one thing I'm not good at is being civil to people!"
Nick turned to his supervisor, an Indian male of similar age, who looked back at him cluelesly. Nick groaned, realising his complaint would not be heard.
"And you're my supervisor. The Agency definitely likes to show me my relative worth."
"All right....get the platters out," the supervisor said, not just to Nick but all the assembled waiters.
"I'd say something racist, but as this is a marketing office chances are I'd be hired full time," Nick mumbled to himself as he picked up the platter.
He left the kitchen, and with the other waiters moved to the function room, where tables were set up to receive the food. Nick was settling his fruit platter down nicely when someone behind him slapped his arse.
"Who my bitch?" a voice came behind him.
"Well, it's either my boss, again mistaking a pat on the arse as a complaint or," Nick said, turning to face the ass-slapper, "It had to be you Steve."
"The correct answer is, you my bitch," Steve said with a huge grin, "So, man, why didn't you tell me you'd be at my office?"
Nick answered, with a forced smile, "I don't know, Steve. Could it possible be because you'd creep up out of nowhere to slap me on the arse?"
Steve laughed, seeing this as a joke. "Well, it's good for you to see where I work. You know, if I pulled a few strings, maybe I could get you a nice job like this."
"You're the lowest of the low. And for once I mean that in a personal and professional sense," Nick said, "You're like an intern, except your boss doesn't want to fuck you."
"You, Nat!" The supervisor hissed at Nick, walking over to him, "Get more platters, and drinks."
"It's fucking Nick!" he yelled, turning to his supervisor, "Go pump a gas station, okay? You don't need to know people's names there."
The supervisor sneered pointing to the kitchen, "There, now!"
"Don't worry, I'm going," Nick said, turning back to Steve, "I better leave here before my universal racism gets me a job here."
"See ya," Steve said as Nick moved back to the kitchen, leaving Steve alone. Until a hand tapped him on the shoulder. He turned to see Gothic Rose, smiling.
"Fancy meeting....you here," Steve said, again struggling with the name, but noticing her distinct lack of dark makeup, "You're looking bright today."
"I know. You should have told me you worked here. I could have organised many an intra-office romance," she said with a sly grin.
"Aren't you....too young to work here? I mean, I just make it."
"Silly Steve," she said, "I don't work here. My dad does. He's the one who made me get rid of the makeup."
"Oooh, bastard," Steve sneered, but connotations hit him. She was young, maybe too young. Combined with being the Boss' daughter, he was worried over the legality of their relations, "But I'm sure you're looking forward to when you're eighteen and can leave him."
"I'm already nineteen. I stay because it's free food and accommodation."
"Great!" Steve said, a little too loudly, "You're nineteen and the boss' daughter. Great."
"Yep, it is. So if you don't mind telling me why you left me before I woke up, I won't tell my dad you inappropriately touched me," Gothic Rose said, still with a smile.
Steve was visibly sweating, and nervously grinning. After looking around for Nick, in hope for help, Steve let his grin grow even wider.
"I was afraid you might bring that up," Steve said, "But it wasn't my fault."
"Really? How did abandoning me for your flatmate to find in the morning not be your fault?"
Steve thought fast, and when this happens, the truth has a nasty habit of popping forth, "He's not my flatmate."
"Oh! He had the keys."
"Well, he's my landlord," Steve said, "Yeah, he's always after back rent. And I didn't have the money this time."
Satisfied with this explanation, he grabbed hold Gothic Rose's shoulders so he could stare directly into her eyes, "You must believe me. I hated myself after doing that, but I was risking eviction. And I knew I'd have enough to pay rent in a few days. Check my payday with your Dad if you don't believe me."
"Um..." Gothic Rose began.
"And I got in touch with your friend, hoping to find you. But all she did was crack onto me," Steve further explained, "God, I'm so glad I've found you again."
"That bitch! After what I said about you, she tried to pick you up," Gothic Rose said, pulling out her mobile, "Well, I'll be deleting Evelyn then."
Steve grinned. Either he was good, or everyone else was stupid. But he needed to sink the deal.
"Listen, I can't believe I didn't have your mobile number. Please, give it to me, so I won't lose you again."
"All right. I'll text it to you in a moment," Gothic Rose said.
Steve grinned. In the matter of minutes he'd managed to save his job, and now get regular sex whenever he wanted to, on his phone. It wouldn't be good sex, but sometimes he'd be willing to settle for less.
"I make meals. I clean dishes. I load trucks. I do all this. I'm good at all this. So why do they put me down as a waiter, where I have to be civil to people? The one thing I'm not good at is being civil to people!"
Nick turned to his supervisor, an Indian male of similar age, who looked back at him cluelesly. Nick groaned, realising his complaint would not be heard.
"And you're my supervisor. The Agency definitely likes to show me my relative worth."
"All right....get the platters out," the supervisor said, not just to Nick but all the assembled waiters.
"I'd say something racist, but as this is a marketing office chances are I'd be hired full time," Nick mumbled to himself as he picked up the platter.
He left the kitchen, and with the other waiters moved to the function room, where tables were set up to receive the food. Nick was settling his fruit platter down nicely when someone behind him slapped his arse.
"Who my bitch?" a voice came behind him.
"Well, it's either my boss, again mistaking a pat on the arse as a complaint or," Nick said, turning to face the ass-slapper, "It had to be you Steve."
"The correct answer is, you my bitch," Steve said with a huge grin, "So, man, why didn't you tell me you'd be at my office?"
Nick answered, with a forced smile, "I don't know, Steve. Could it possible be because you'd creep up out of nowhere to slap me on the arse?"
Steve laughed, seeing this as a joke. "Well, it's good for you to see where I work. You know, if I pulled a few strings, maybe I could get you a nice job like this."
"You're the lowest of the low. And for once I mean that in a personal and professional sense," Nick said, "You're like an intern, except your boss doesn't want to fuck you."
"You, Nat!" The supervisor hissed at Nick, walking over to him, "Get more platters, and drinks."
"It's fucking Nick!" he yelled, turning to his supervisor, "Go pump a gas station, okay? You don't need to know people's names there."
The supervisor sneered pointing to the kitchen, "There, now!"
"Don't worry, I'm going," Nick said, turning back to Steve, "I better leave here before my universal racism gets me a job here."
"See ya," Steve said as Nick moved back to the kitchen, leaving Steve alone. Until a hand tapped him on the shoulder. He turned to see Gothic Rose, smiling.
"Fancy meeting....you here," Steve said, again struggling with the name, but noticing her distinct lack of dark makeup, "You're looking bright today."
"I know. You should have told me you worked here. I could have organised many an intra-office romance," she said with a sly grin.
"Aren't you....too young to work here? I mean, I just make it."
"Silly Steve," she said, "I don't work here. My dad does. He's the one who made me get rid of the makeup."
"Oooh, bastard," Steve sneered, but connotations hit him. She was young, maybe too young. Combined with being the Boss' daughter, he was worried over the legality of their relations, "But I'm sure you're looking forward to when you're eighteen and can leave him."
"I'm already nineteen. I stay because it's free food and accommodation."
"Great!" Steve said, a little too loudly, "You're nineteen and the boss' daughter. Great."
"Yep, it is. So if you don't mind telling me why you left me before I woke up, I won't tell my dad you inappropriately touched me," Gothic Rose said, still with a smile.
Steve was visibly sweating, and nervously grinning. After looking around for Nick, in hope for help, Steve let his grin grow even wider.
"I was afraid you might bring that up," Steve said, "But it wasn't my fault."
"Really? How did abandoning me for your flatmate to find in the morning not be your fault?"
Steve thought fast, and when this happens, the truth has a nasty habit of popping forth, "He's not my flatmate."
"Oh! He had the keys."
"Well, he's my landlord," Steve said, "Yeah, he's always after back rent. And I didn't have the money this time."
Satisfied with this explanation, he grabbed hold Gothic Rose's shoulders so he could stare directly into her eyes, "You must believe me. I hated myself after doing that, but I was risking eviction. And I knew I'd have enough to pay rent in a few days. Check my payday with your Dad if you don't believe me."
"Um..." Gothic Rose began.
"And I got in touch with your friend, hoping to find you. But all she did was crack onto me," Steve further explained, "God, I'm so glad I've found you again."
"That bitch! After what I said about you, she tried to pick you up," Gothic Rose said, pulling out her mobile, "Well, I'll be deleting Evelyn then."
Steve grinned. Either he was good, or everyone else was stupid. But he needed to sink the deal.
"Listen, I can't believe I didn't have your mobile number. Please, give it to me, so I won't lose you again."
"All right. I'll text it to you in a moment," Gothic Rose said.
Steve grinned. In the matter of minutes he'd managed to save his job, and now get regular sex whenever he wanted to, on his phone. It wouldn't be good sex, but sometimes he'd be willing to settle for less.
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