Hmm. What to say. Well I worked for Waffle House for about three days and then decided to resign. I had a bad feeling about it. Working for them would have ruined the magic of it all for me. I went with my gut which was the right choice because I found a new job that I fucking love. Anyways, I went to Centura College to train for two days then I would work a day or two as what they called “Door Corps” which I called door whoring. Thats another tangent. This is my story of my two days in said college and the ridiculously random series of events that occurred.
I was early, yet still speeding. It couldn’t have come any quicker. I was so excited. Waffle House. I was telling every body at work about it and getting the situation way more hype than it should’ve been. I noticed that most of them were wearing white shirts with black pants and shoes. I looked down realizing my unintentional outcasting. Fucking black on black. Another guy had a blue shirt on so I was immediately relieved. Others were early too. Thankfully I wasn’t going to be the only punctual one. We went in, signed in, and walked to the classroom. It looked like a typical building with encouraging walls and photos of past graduates.
Every one chose a seat. There was a couple conversations of being tired and how early it was. Each of us had to do a third interview with the district manager to ensure that we were good for the job. There were seven of us to start off with. The guy in the blue shirt I mentioned, he was sent home because he had a neck tattoo and that darn blue shirt on so he wasn’t aloud to work at Waffle House. It was my turn.
The guy greeted my with a corporate looking smile. We talked. He asked me about my goals, he told me about the job, we shook hands and that was basically it. His last words to me were, ‘where a white shirt next time’ and smiled with an affirming nod. I mentioned the comment to the HR lady at the front of the classroom and she said in her cute southern accent ‘Yeah I probably told you black shirt, I’m sorry, but it’s okay I fought for you to stay,’ with a smile of course. I felt so happy! They wanted me there! I was on my way to that sweet money tree with this place.
Some time went by, we watched the sexual harassment videos and all that good work shit. It was time for a break. Our trainer went to go get us some food. Everyone was mingling and becoming more friendly. There were two Shakiras in the class, me, a gender neutral named Sydney, and a couple (girl and guy). We all finished our food and the couple went outside for a cigarette. I stayed in the class, Syd did as well and the Shakiras went for a drive. We all reassembled except for the couple and the trainer.
Not but two seconds later the girl bolts into the room screamed ‘Whats the address? Whats the address of this place?! I need an ambulance for my husband, he just collapsed! He’s choking, he’s gonna die! Whats the address’ and ran out hollering for help. Mind she was also on the phone with 911 while yelling. The tall Shakira sprung into action because she had medical training and knew CPR. The three of us that were left stood around then walked to follow the others and their chaos. A teacher or employee of this community institute followed us out. We ran all around the parking to yelling their names until the teacher/employee turned the corner and found them there.
The husband was lying on the curb gasping for air like a fish out of water. His skin had turned that sickening blue/purple hue. It was a site of shock and a bit of horror. Shirt open, stomach barely taking in oxygen and his mouth was wide open making odd noises. His suffering was something I had never witnessed in all my days. Not but fifteen minutes prior to his almost death, we were joking about and inspirational wall of alcohol facts, which just seemed like an out of place thing at a community college. We exchanged mockingly-casual words about it and he mentioned that he gave up the stuff years ago. I told him that was a good choice. Now here we both were again, just not so mocking or casual any more.
Tall Shakira yelled for scissors and an ERM (emergency resuscitation machine?). In the meantime, the three of us stood by and watched as she performed CPR and pushed in his chest with her entire body. The wife was hysterical at his feet praying and trying to get him to do anything but die. All of us were hollering about the ambulance not being fast enough and wondering what would happen after this ordeal was over. Do we go back to the classroom and continue to learn our Waffle House lingo and prices of the entire menu? What the hell should we do?
The police were the first to show up. One, then two cop cars and all the officers got out and slowly strutted over to the curb. Arrogantly with his hands on his belt one cop asked, ” okay so who saw this happen?” We just said “we came out here and he was on the curb not breathing.” He didn’t say much to that and the wife had stood up to talk to him about it. So her and a different went to the side and discussed the series of events. Shortly the ambulance finally had arrived. Four or five people jumped out and began to bring him back to life. At this point had a stopped breathing because the fucking police officers didn’t know how to perform CPR on a dying man. Midlothian’s finest I’m sure.
Our trainer wasn’t back from break yet so we all went back inside for a minute to see if she was in the room looking for us. When we came back outside she walked out at the same time. We gave her the low down of the situation and then we got on the subject of heroine. Apparently, they both had track marks and were potentially coming outside so frequently for ‘smoke breaks’ but those may have been bogus excuses to sneak a little high into their day. The cop pulled the wife over to the hood of the car and were having an extremely serious discussion. All I could hear of it was that she didn’t have any knowledge of him taking drugs and then he started going through her purse to see if she had been lying. Her expression was worry and defense. The cop looked suspicious and eager.
Meanwhile the other cops were searching the surrounding area possibly for the alleged drugs they threw out. The arrogant one, with aviators who was the most stereotypical power hungry cop I’ve seen in a while ( ironically wasn’t white), was turning over flower pots, sifting through the dirt, looking through those not very ecofriendly cigarette butt stations that every one is supposed to use but still litters regardless, and ultimately was unlucky in finding the evidence he wanted. The other one talking with the wife and putting her purse back in sorts while looking disappointed as well.
By now they proceeded to put him on a gurney and take him to the hospital. They hadn’t taken him away yet but we all were on the sidewalk trying to console the wife and at the last moment before lift off he puked loudly and coughed up what he was choking on. It just looked like barf mixed with the hamburger he had for lunch. He sat against the wall breathing deeply and trying to explain what actually went down. He apparently choked on the piece of burger and that was that. The cop turned to us girls and asked “Are you all finished here?” We looked at each other and didn’t say anything just nodded and shrugged with indecision. He retorted “okay then” and made the ‘shoo-ing’ gesture with his hand clearly to get us to go away from it all. We all acted offended, paid no mind and lingered a bit longer. Our trainer told us that we weren’t going back to class, we could just go home.
Once it was done we all exchanged numbers. I smiled a sympathetic smile at the husband against the wall. We all just grabbed our stuff and went home. Later that night I got a text message from the wife saying “the guy you met at wawa?” and that was the last I heard from anyone of those folks.
After all of that, what had just happened? That whole ordeal took maybe around forty five minute to an hour. Never in my life has anything remotely interesting like that occurred besides my unfortunate encounter with ulcerative colitis. Did he actually over dose on something? Were they truly junkies hiding drugs and sneaking shit around this college while simultaneously training for a fucking Waffle House job? Or was all of this just some freak act of nature with a gossipy twist? I guess no one but the couple will ever know what truly happened that morning. Accidental druggie thing or a complete and honest accident?
Thanks for reading, I love you