Page 20 of A Fool's Game

Chapter 9

Ainsley

Soup station is just as toxic as I remember, but I struggle through it for two straight shifts, feeling like I tackled my demons and overcame some kind of personal challenge. I’m actually feeling pretty good about myself by Friday morning.

But Taylor has an even fresher hell planned for the last day of my work week.

School starts next week, right after New Year’s Day, and everyone is returning from the holidays and milling around campus, getting their new books and schedules.

I’m on the early morning shift today, which is fine by me because it means I get to escape the kitchen at three.

“You’re on garbage duty today, asshole,” Taylor barks at me the second I hang up my jacket.

“Asshole is the nickname I have for you, boss. It’s going to be too confusing if we’re calling each other the same thing. Besides, I was really starting to like pretty boy.”

He just grunts in response. “Seth’ll show you the ropes.”

I bite my tongue and get to work.

“I hope I didn’t get you stuck with garbage duty.” I apologize to Seth when we’re rolling giant plastic garbage cans out of the utility room closet and into the dining room.

“I always do garbage on Fridays. It’s my favorite,” he adds, but then turns to me quickly. “But don't tell anyone I said that, okay?”

I nod and assure him I won’t, but the comment has me curious. It seems I might not be the only one trying to avoid the mood swings of a certain asshole manager.

I quickly find out that garbage duty is a pleasant break from the dish room and the onions, but I can see why Taylor thought it would be punishment. In the kitchen, it’s easy to hide. Out here, everyone in the whole school passes through and sees you lugging smelly, leaking garbage bags from can to can.

More than once, I catch a sneering look from someone I recognize from class. One guy even tosses his cup toward the can I’m changing, deliberately missing and hitting me with a nearly full paper cup of orange soda.

“Fuck you,” I call cheerfully as he walks away.

He flashes me the middle finger over his shoulder without glancing back.

Seth laughs nervously. “You can’t say that to the students.”

I shrug. “I’m not even a real employee. It’s not like I can get fired.”

“I’m fairly certain you can still get fired.”

“You’re probably right. I’ll work on my language. How do you deal with it?”

“Deal with what?”

“The abuse. The disrespect from all these jackass students.”

It’s his turn to shrug. “I’m here to do my job. If I do well enough, I can move up to prep cook.”

I blow out a breath. “And spend the day chopping onions? I don’t know, man. You might have it made here on garbage duty.”

“Prep cooks make more money. And they have more shifts to choose from. Right now, I’m at the bottom of the food chain. I just have to work whenever I’m scheduled. It’s fine because I can help out with the bills at home, but what I really like to do is play baseball. If I can get Saturdays off, I could join a team again.”

It’s not lost on me that what he’s describing is a world I have no experience in, nor will I ever participate in. At least not on the grunt worker side.

“That does sound better.”

“What are you going to do? Like for a job after graduation.”

I grimace and huff out another sigh to dispel some of the worry his questions stir up in me. I need to figure out how to answer, because this is something I get asked a lot—and it’s only going to get worse as graduation gets closer.

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