Hold up, did you miss Part 1? You can read it here.
Doug, You A Wild One.
“Mam breakfast ended already,” the notorious black box said apologetically.
I hesitated for a moment before refuting the claims.
“Uhh, isn’t breakfast served all day?” I turned the volume down on the symphony music playing at a medium-high volume in my automobile.
My initial thought would normally be that I forgot the time change again, but the time change just happened a few weeks ago and I specifically remember this because Thomas forgot the time change, and everyone was at work waiting for him to get there and unlock the doors to let us all in and I had the pleasure of calling him and waking him up.
It was almost like we were laying in bed next to each other as I heard his groggy morning voice answer the phone, except we weren’t in bed together and he was my boss and I was his employee and he would never date me.
“Well, we’re out of eggs,” the woman explained.
“GOHHHH DAMN IT NORMA!” I shouted before peeling out of the line, empty-bellied.
I’m not even entirely sure if it was Norma but somebody had to take responsibility for these actions.
A week after the club tragically went separate ways with Big Daddy Q, a new manager was hired and Thomas once again urged me to be nice to him.
I bumped into the new manager before Thomas had a chance to officially introduce us when I wandered back to the cooler to stock beer for the day.
“Hi. I’m Forest. I’m the bartender.” I offered a handshake as he introduced himself as Doug.
He insisted on helping me carry beers and I got the idea I was going to get along with this guy just fine.
In the walk-in cooler, a beer crashed to the floor as Doug picked up the six-pack it resided in.
I took this opportunity to tell him about the cardboard situation. It could get so wet that the beers will fall through the bottom if you’re not careful.
That’s what she said.
“Always make sure you’re supporting the bottom like this” I showed him how I cradled the beer.
He frowned at the mess he had made.
“Don’t worry about it.” I shrugged. “Blame it on me. I break shit all the time. You’ll see …”
After we stocked up the beer coolers behind the bar, I offered to buy him a shot.
Thomas plopped down at the bar and appeared shocked to see me getting along with the new guy so soon, much less buying him a shot.
Doug glanced over at Thomas warily and set his shot off to the side.
“Sorry.” His eyes were cast downward. “I shouldn’t start this early.”
“I don’t give a shit, man. Pour me one, Forest.” We toasted to a good shift and clinked our glasses.
It was unlike Thomas to take a shot so early but I think he wanted to keep the good vibes going.
A couple of hours later, one of the owners popped in to check on things. He bought me a shot and we made some small talk before he asked me how it was going with Doug.
Listen up though, yo. Fuck the small talk. The most magical shit ever happened when the owner came in that day.
Thomas comes over to talk to us, right? It’s his boss, you know? He’s gotta make an impression. Or at least say hello.
So, we’re all making small talk and Thomas goes, and I quote, “Yeah, I knew Forest was something special when I first started working here.”
“I knew she was special because at one of the first manager meetings I was at, you,” he tapped the owner on the chest with his finger — and that’s when I knew the morning shots had gotten to him.
Anyway, Thomas goes, “You said, ‘No bartenders are allowed to drink, except Forest. Forest can drink whatever she wants.’”
And I just want to clarify that I did keep my ovaries in my pants after he called me special.
Anyway, we did get back on the conversation of the new manager because that’s undoubtedly why the owner showed up today in the first place. And since Doug hadn’t appeared at the bar at all during the fairy tale conversation, the owner inevitably asked again, “Where’s Doug?”
“You know what, I haven’t seen him in a bit but so far he’s been great and really helpful!” A dancer walked by and I grabbed her attention and asked if she had seen Doug anywhere. She said he had been sitting back with a few customers in VIP and she would go grab him for me.
Moments later, Doug stumbled up to the bar. My eyes darted over to the owner to see if he picked up on the fact that Doug was completely annihilated. He only had three shots from me so I didn’t understand how he was so drunk. However, the answer came soon.
“Holy shit!” Doug cackled. “Those guys back there are awesome! The ones who bought that bottle of Jack earlier.” He staggered over to the cooler behind the bar and grabbed a water bottle. “WOO!” He howled before taking a big gulp from the plastic bottle.
“We’ve just been up there partying!”
I stared at him wide-eyed, trying to silently signal for him to stop talking. He gave the owner a quick nod, clearly unaware (or too drunk) to realize who was in our presence.
“Anyway,” he turned back to me and motioned for me to lean in. “Do you know where I can score some coke? We’re running low back there.” He whispered loudly. A dancer passed by and he hollered at her, saying he was ready for another lap dance.
The owner was white-knuckled and clenching his jaw as his face turned a nice shade of pink, which is quite noticeable when everything about him, including his hair, is white as fuck. I quickly shook my head and excused myself to go to the bathroom.
I didn’t see Doug the remainder of the day or any day ever again for that matter.
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