Yesterday morning at approximately 9:07am, my life was changed forever.
I’m working the breakfast shift for Ricardos, cutting fruit, minding my own business, when I turn around to be confronted with a man striding towards me who’s wearing nothing besides shoes, black socks, and basketball shorts. His shirt was completely absent from the situation. It wasn’t tucked into the back of his shorts, not wadded up in one of his hands–nowhere to be found. It is important to add that this was not an especially attractive shirtless man. Now, I am a long way from looking like Ryan Gosling, but this man was certainly not in possession of a physique that one would readily go out of one’s way to show off (read: doughy). He kind of looked like Dave Coulier during the early days of Full House. Only without a shirt.
Before I could even begin to formulate the sentence with which to ask him to please get the hell out of the restaurant, he said to me as though it was the most normal thing in the world, “Hey, man, do you have a souvenir t-shirt I can buy so that I can have some breakfast?”
Which, shockingly, didn’t seem like an unreasonable request in terms of the present situation. So I got him a shirt, and set him up for breakfast.
He put the newly-purchased shirt on backwards. The tag was poking out of what was now the front of the shirt, just below his Adam’s apple. I didn’t feel the need to initiate any unnecessary conversation by addressing this fact.
He had a wallet, but not a shirt?
“You’re alright,” I said. And then, gently prodding, I asked, “So, what happened to your shirt?”
“Dude, it’s a real long story.”
The story continues from there, but I’m going to be a dick and make you listen to our next podcast for the rest. Look for it to be live by next week.
Make good decisions. We’ll talk soon.