Here at Big Bob’s Burger Bonanza, we’ve been taught to ask our customers a number of questions: How may I help you? Do you want fries with that? Would you like to super size your order? Will there be anything else? Nowhere in the training manual does it encourage us to ask customers if they’re a prostitute or if they’re just dressed the way they are because they’ve been cursed with a poor sense of fashion.
It’s unfortunate because I’d really like to ask the young woman who just stumbled up to the counter what her deal is. Being a fast food worker, I’m used to seeing people coming in here wearing sweats or dirty work clothes, but she’s the first one I’ve seen stroll in wearing only a pair of mile high ‘fuck me’ shoes, a pleated black skirt not long enough to cover her butt, a bubble gum pink coloured bra, and a torn t-shirt tied around her breasts in a misguided attempt at discretion. Are you a prostitute, I want to ask, or are you simply short on change for the Laundromat? If you are a prostitute, what are you doing out at 11:30 in the morning? I thought that those in your profession strictly worked the night shift.
There are other things I want to ask her. Is your speech unintelligible because you are drunk, stoned, or a combination of both? Shouldn’t there be some sort of hooker school that teaches you how to walk in those ridiculous heels of yours so you don’t break an ankle? Why didn’t you think to shave your armpits this morning? More importantly, how did you end up this way?
Did you have some sort of messed up childhood that drove you to this? Did watching Pretty Woman fool you into thinking that becoming a hooker would be a wise career move? Or was there a day when you lost all hope for the future and decided that this path was your best option? Do you remember what day that was? If I were to offer to buy you lunch, would it restore your faith in humanity, leading you to then give life another shot, or would you punch me in the face and tell me to mind my own business?
Hooker girl has her own questions for me.
“What can I get for a dollar?” she asks.
“We don’t have anything on the menu for a dollar,” I tell her.
“Don’t you have any of those tiny burgers?”
“We have burgers for $1.99, fries for $1.99, and pop for $1.99”
“Great. Gimme the $1.99 combo.”
“We don’t have a $1.99 combo,” I clarify for her. “You can get a burger for $1.99 or fries for $1.99 or a pop for $1.99. Not all three together.”
“Gimme a burger then.”
I give her a burger and she hobbles out of the restaurant to meet her handler, a customer, or whatever hookers go in search of in the middle of the day.