Burger Wuss

I
told them I was there for the interview. A beeper went off. For a second, the girl stared at me. The beeper was still going off. “That’s the quality control beeper,” she explained. “I’ll go get Mike. He talks to people about working. Excuse me.” She turned around. I smiled in a secret way. I thought,
They will suspect nothing. I look as calm and normal as can be.

Mike was the manager. He wore blue, and everyone else wore green. He seemed very friendly and held out his hand. I shook it. He said, “I’m Mike. Nice to meet you. You’re Anthony?”

I said, “Yes. It’s nice to meet you, too.”

He said, “Let’s sit down. Would you like a shake?” We walked out into the dining area. He said, “Now to talk, would you prefer a booth or a free-standing table?”

I shrugged. I said, “Booth, I guess.”

He grinned. “Good!” he said. “That will be fine!”

We sat down at a booth. I carefully put my hands on my lap. Over my head was a cardboard mobile of
Kermit O’Dermott, an elf who talked to hamburgers. The sun was coming through the windows and searing the tile floor and the plastic vines and rhododendrons.

I said, “It looks very cheerful in here today.”

He said, “Isn’t it nice? Corporate Headquarters just sent us some new signage. It’s very effective, don’t you think? Now.” He had a clipboard with him. My application was on it. I felt very nervous. I thought to myself,
Green sateen. Green sateen.
I thought this for private reasons. There are times when you have to hide what you’re really up to.

I said, “So.” The cardboard Kermit O’Dermott was playing his magical harp. In commercials, it made beverages dance.

He said, “So. Could you tell me some things you could say about yourself?”

“Yes,” I said. “I could tell you I’m sixteen —”

“Can you drive?”

“Yes,” I said, “but I don’t have a car. I can walk here from home.”

“Do you have any previous work experience?”

“Yes,” I said. “I had a paper route for three years. I know that isn’t making burgers or anything, but, you know . . .”

He was looking out the window over my shoulder. There was a Kermit O’Dermott–themed jungle gym out there, and some kids were playing on it. He turned back to me and grinned. He said, “Good, good. The reason you would like to work at O’Dermott’s? Just a few words.”

I could not tell him the real reason. I had prepared a
clever and cheerful-sounding fake reason. I told him, “I really like people. I like meeting people and I like talking with them. People are so different, and it’s great to see people from all over. In a job like this, I would get to see all sorts of people that I couldn’t see otherwise. Maybe I’d learn something about people that I can’t even know yet.”

He laughed. “That’s the spirit!” he said. “We work as a team here. We even play as a team.” He looked out the window again at the kids on the jungle gym. “That’s how it is. Should kids be doing that?”

I turned around and looked out the window. I shrugged. I said, “I think kids pretty much always hit each other like that.”

He said, “Little kids’ skulls are really soft, though. You don’t know that until you have your own kids. My wife just had kids.”

“Oh,” I said. “More than one?”

He said, “Two. Twins. Two twins.”

I said, “I think the skull thickens after a few months or something.”

He said, “Well, Anthony, it just so happens that we have a position open at the moment. Do you know Diana Gritt? She also goes to Taft High. She just quit and left a cashier position open.”

I rubbed my knees with my fingertips. I considered evil. I thought,
Green sateen. Green sateen.
I said, “Oh, yeah? I know Diana Gritt.”

He said, “Small world. I have a few more interviews this week, but I should be able to call you back pretty quick.”

I said, “Really? That would be great.”

He said, “Great. Now let’s talk about hours.”

Through the plastic undergrowth I could see Turner come out of the back, dressed in green. I watched him. Turner was the reason I was there. Turner and anger. He stood behind his register. He ran his hand over his greasy blond crew cut. Mike and I talked about hours. I saw Turner see me. I thought that suddenly he had an ugly look on his face. He shook his head. I laughed to myself and looked again. Now I couldn’t tell if he had recognized me. I thought maybe the ugly look had just been him cleaning his molars with his tongue. Maybe he had not recognized me at all.

Mike and I were done with the interview. We stood up to shake hands. I banged my knee on the table. I hunched over. When I swore, it was quietly. Mike reached out to give me a hand. I tried to smile. I was bent over a little. I rubbed the knee. Mike was saying, “We are part of a team here. I hope you’ll become part of our team. I think you’ll really like it here.”

He turned and walked toward the counter. Turner faced the other way. Before I left, I stood for a moment. I thought,
Green sateen,
and stared at him. I stared at his back. His neck was a boiled red. We stood there for a long time like that before I left.

Some paramedics were ordering Happy Lunches. Maybe for someone else. They pointed at the board. They specified their prizes.

The next day, I met my friends Rick and Jenn at the mall. We met in the food court. There was a Wendy’s, an Au Bon Pain, and a Happy Wok. All the seats and tables were fixed to the floor. We watched kids we knew from school mop and daub. They were uniformed in red.

Jenn and Rick both worked at O’Dermott’s. Jenn was taller than Rick. Rick was more muscular than Jenn. They were in love. They were holding hands.

“Hey, Anthony,” said Rick.

“Hi, Anthony,” said Jenn.

I said, “Hi, Jenn, Rick. Hey.”

We looked around. I said, “So what’s up?”

Rick said, “Basically, dog bites water.”

Jenn nodded in agreement.

I said, “Sure.
Dog bites water?
”

Rick and Jenn looked at each other and smiled. They sighed. Rick looked at me and explained kindly, “When there’s no news, the newspaper always runs a picture of like three kids playing with a fire hydrant and a dog biting water.”

“I see. And I was supposed to get that?”

Since they started going out Rick and Jenn had kind of become their own little nation, with its own special language.

“Well, there’s not much news,” said Rick.

“Rick’s older brother won’t get out of the bathtub,” Jenn offered. “He thinks everything is unclean.”

“Man,” I said.

“Yeah,” said Rick. “He’s wearing down his loofah.”

“Is he okay?” I asked. “I mean, like: okay?”

Rick looked a little uneasy. He said, “I don’t think so. He cries the whole time.”

We all looked at our feet. Rick’s brother was usually normal. He had a straight B average. We were quiet.

“Here’s news,” I said. “I applied to O’Dermott’s.”

“No way!” said Rick.

“That would be so chow if you were there!” said Jenn.

“You know,” said Rick, “Diana quit. Last week.”

“So you told me,” I said.

“You have all this stuff to look forward to!” said Jenn. “Like the worst are the guys from the computer company who come in at lunch and go, ‘You know, you could increase efficiency if you like reorganized around a different networking principle,’ and it’s like, ‘Okay, I’m just a cashier here, but no, please, why don’t I during my lunch break just reorganize the whole company, sure, thanks buddy, thanks for all the genius.’”

“No,” said Rick. “The worst is like the senior citizens that keep coming back for free coffee and then sit around swearing and groping the employees.”

“No,” said Jenn. “The worst is like that woman, the Iced Tea Lady, who orders like four large iced teas and then when you go into the bathroom later it’s —”

“No,” said Rick, “or the guy who can’t —”

“The unsalted man?”

“Yeah, who like —”

“Oh, God, he’s the worst! He really is!”

“Every Thursday!”

They grabbed hands and screamed in high-pitched voices into each other’s faces.

“So I have all that to look forward to,” I said.

“Yes,” said Jenn.

“Too crew,” said Rick. I didn’t know what he meant, but I let it slide.

“
If
you get the job,” said Jenn. “It’s pretty competitive.”

I gave her a look. “What?” I said. “Are you saying I’m not qualified?”

“No, man,” said Rick. “But not everyone can get a job.”

I said, “Because I think I’m qualified to work at O’Dermott’s, thanks.”

“Calm,” said Rick. “Calm. It’s great you’ve applied. We’d love to have you.”

“Better O’Dermott’s than Burger Queen,” said Jenn. “They are all a mass of shame at BQ. They just got a condiment troll.”

“What’s a condiment troll?” I asked.

“A four-and-a-half-foot plastic troll that dispenses ketchup and mustard,” answered Rick. “It’s a promotional item.”