"...Ay, I can get uh appluhcation?"

Something amazing happened at the Fruit Shop a couple days ago. I was dipping strawberries into chocolate and I backed up to throw something away and it happened!... I actually slipped on a banana peel. Something I thought couldn't really happen except in children's books and MarioKart World.

Yes. I stepped on the banana peel and slid on it for about two feet. After I got my balance back I just looked at the flattened peel and the smear on the ground with a sort of "wooow" face. I looked around to see if anyone else saw the unbelievable wonder that just happened, but no. No one was really paying attention. We were all in our own world dreading the moment when Corporate Fruit Shop Man would be in to stay all week to watch us all... and that would be any moment now.

I continue to dip strawberries because I am not really concerned with Corporate Fruit Shop Man. I am about to walk out of the place anyway. Every morning I feel like a bum for working there and I have my other job that I can go to. The customers are beginning to get on my last nerve and Bunnies (the owner who hired me) has sold the store to an Indian Patel (THEY ARE ALL PATELS! HOW ARE THEY ALL PATELS??) who uses a fake first name because his real one is an impossibility. I saw it on our employee packet and it looks something like this: "Dijikiolipmhjijiuygulipa"

I like Indian Patel okay, you know. I mean I guess. I suppose. Whatever.

We carry on with our morning activities. Dipping, cutting, skewering, and screaming profanities at each other, throwing grapes and wet strawberries at Charley, the manager who gets paid like a regular employee because no one wants to pay him what he deserves. (It passes the time)

We terrorize each other constantly. It is unending and it also explains why there was a banana peel in my space. Someone threw it at me. These sort of things are nice and I used to have fun at the Fruit Shop. I am hoping the hatred-funk I am in is just a phase that will soon pass.

The doorbell chime went off. I look at the Kracken and the Kracken looks at me. The Kraken looks at Charley and Charley looks at the Kracken. Charley tells me to answer the door because he's bossy and I'm obedient. I go up front and an extremely tall black man wearing a Fruit Shop hat, Fruit Shop jacket, Fruit Shop pants, and holding a Fruit Shop notebook is making his way into the back of the shop without acknowledging my "hello".

What a douchehole.

I walk back to the production area where Mr. Corporate is looking around disgusted. Nothing is how he wants it. He says in the most condescending diva fashion ,"Oh, no no no. This will not do. Lookssssssss like I came just in time!"

Yeah he was (and still is, I presume..) a big, flaming homosexual who really did draw his S's out for a noticccccceably long time. It was esssspecccially bad when the S was on the last letter of the word in his sentenccce. The longest S run was four seconds. Yeah, I counted. It was just sort of awkward because we all had to wait until his S sound finished until we answered his question or commented on his remark. Gay. Gay and odd.

I want to walk out now. But then I would only have my Web job to go to...and I want to walk out on that one too. Dang. Why can't both of these jobs be as nice as they were when I started?

I heard Winston Churchill and my other boss talking about how my hours were going to be cut and they said NO to the raise I asked them for so I doubt they would even notice if i stopped coming in.

Dang doorbell. Another dang customer. I saw this one coming from the parking lot. He demands attention. Mr. Gangsta Gold Teeth With An Attitude Drug Dealer wants some effing fruit. If I go attend to the customer I can get away from Corporate Gay Man. So I go.

Gangsta Attitude wants to order a huge fruit basket with a bunch of extra dipped fruit and then complain about how expensive it is. This is typical of this type of customer. They do it every time and then they pull out a huge-ass wad of "fiddys" (fifty-dollar bills) and peel off a few and then curse at you under their breath. You don't have to get a fruit basket you know. But dang.

So yeah. He mumbled quietly as he forks over one hundred and thirty dollars, "You high fo' some fruit...". (This translates into "This is expensive fruit)

"Yes, I know sir, but people buy it so it will continue to be that way."

"Whatchu' mean by dat?"

"I'm saying if you don't want to spend the money you don't have to."

**silence**

"Ay. If I bring some bud and some stuff in, you ca' make me a basket wit dat?"

"Are you asking me if I can make you a basket out of Marijuana?"

**Insert hysterical gangsta laughing here*

"WOOO day would be hot, right??... Maybe I could send it to da Po-po Department." He continues to laugh because he is the funniest man alive while I wonder why I come in to work everyday.

Charley and Corporate Man come to the front to see what is going on. They look at me for an explaination, but before I could tell them what his Police basket plan was, I didn't even know what was going on because Gangsta Attitude is getting passionate about tax rates and going on about some dude in Washington. He was an idiot.

I go to the back to sip my coffee and reflect on what just happened.

I go back to dipping and I am doing that wrong and get corrected.

I start putting grapes on the stick and I am doing that wrong too and I get corrected.

The phone rings and I answer it and I get corrected because I didn't answer the phone right.

and so on.

Indian Patel comes in and tells me that my apron looks scuzzy. A blood vessel throbbed in my eye. I lied and told him I had to leave because my other job wants me to come in and they are priority over the Fruit Shop because I get paid more there. This makes him be "concerned about my future at the Fruit Shop". This doesn't make me care any more than I already don't.

I was almost out and walking to my car when a brand new Gangsta customer came in.

I greet him with a, "Hey! how are you today?"

He responds with a ,"Ay, what ya'll do in hurr.. cut up fruits and shit?"

Wow. "Um, yes. That is what we do here."

Gangsta looks around the walls and ceiling for God knows what and says," Ay, I can get uh appluhcation?."

**Blink, blink**

"Of course!"

I open the kitchen door and tell Charley that he has a customer and leave quickly.

I believe it is the beginning of Fruit Shop Burnout.