Choices of Life

Between the day we’re born and the second we die, there’s a million little choices that are made. Choices that express exactly how we’re going to be able to live our lives. Some people refer to it as destiny, others claim it to be choice, I wasn’t sure which one I was. All I knew was that this was my life, and it didn’t really matter how I got here, because there was nowhere else that I would rather be. 

The rush had just died down, and everybody was finally calm and taking a breath. We were trying to restock and get back on top of the store, before anyone else came in. Tim was in the back, breaking down boxes and the people behind the grill had turned up the music, laughing and talking about whatever. Their lives were basically separate from ours, or at least, that’s what it seemed like during work. They had their own little bubble almost, their own conversations. Whereas we, the people behind the counter, seemed more real than they did. Because these were the people that I had worked with for as long as I could remember. 

That didn’t mean the people in grill weren’t apart of it, in fact they were a big part of it. Nearly everyone there were humorous and just straight up amazing, they made the job interesting. Almost as if they were the glue that kept us all together, and stopped us from throwing pots of hot coffee at each other, even if they didn’t know it. 

“Hey, so do you think Jesus is an Alien” Jack asks, from where he was standing. 

“What?” Linzie asks. “Where did that come from?”

“I honestly don’t know, I just thought about it,” Jack explains. “I feel as though Jesus might be an alien. Is that weird?”

“Kind of,” Linzie says, rolling her eyes. 

“I feel as though the correct answer is no,” I say, grabbing a towel to wipe down the counters. 

We ignore the semi-weird looks coming from the people in grill as they catch parts of our conversation. If they weren’t used to this by now, then they never will be. That was just the way of the job. 

“We should ask Tim!” Jack exclaims, moving towards the back. “Hey Tim! We got a very important question for you!” 

“Oh boy, here we go again,” Tim says. 

He was so used to all our joking and insanity that he didn’t even bother trying to hide the fact that he regretted joining our shift. Still, we knew that in the end it was all a joke, it always was. 

“Do you think Jesus is an alien?” Linzie questions. She had this great ability of keeping a straight face.

“WHAT?!” Tim shouts. “I leave you all alone for three minutes and you come up with that?”

“Well to be completely honest, we came up with it in about one minute, we’ve just spent two debating it on our own. It’s just now we need your wisdom,” I say.

Tim sighs, shaking his head dramatically, “Get back to work.”

“Wait, you actually think we come here to actually do something? I’m just here for the free food,” Jessie says, walking over to where we were. “I mean, honestly, if I wanted to do something other than mess around I would’ve joined a different shift.”

“You’ve been doing dishes for half and hour,” Jack replies, confused. 

Jessie shrugs, before heading back towards the backroom, she wasn’t much of a talker when it came to pointless things. Everything had to be serious when it comes to her. Sometimes she jokes, but it was always dark, and kind of depressing. Not very much like a joke at all. 

“You have an order!” Kaeli, our manager, shouts.

“You want to take that?” Tim asks. “Please say yes. Please.”

“I’m going to go do lobby,” I say, talking off my headset.

“Traitor,” Tim grumbles, standing up and making his way to the computer over the towers of boxes. 

“Hey, look, there’s a bus!” Linzie says.

“Stop saying the ‘B’ word! You’ll jinx it,” Tim snaps. 

That was work, most of the time we got swamped, and everyone was working on auto pilot.  Tensions rose as customers started getting angry and the board turned red, everyone running into each other and shoving to get to where they need to go. No one actually doing the job they were meant to be doing, it was just freeplay at this time. Just trying to make it through, until the next time we’d be able to breath. The morning people preferred it that way, when they were overly busy and there was no chance to just chill, or grab a drink.

Us? We preferred this, the dead quiet that was broken only by our own laughter. The morning people never understood why, which I knew was because there was so many that worked mornings. They didn’t know about being short staffed or being yelled at by customers for no reason. They got their stuff together and then got the food out, just as fast as the person could order. We were never that lucky, since we were just a small shift. 

Sure, there were times when we hated each other, or when someone was being way too annoying, but in the end we were still a family. Connected by the night and the stars that swam in the sky. We would rather talk to each other in the silence of the store than run around worrying about a customer that would probably just call up and complain anyway.

We would rather hang out with each other and all of our ghosts, chattering away and waiting for the next straggler, but praying they never came. Tim like to call us, idiots that pretended to know what they were doing. We had all just adopted that as who we were, because it was true. 

“Yo, I’m off!” Jack and Tim say at the same time. 

“Can you give me a ride?” Tim asks.

“No problem-o,” Jack replies. “But first… Food.”

The two of them always tried to get out of here as soon as they could, because they spent their time here waiting for the next bus to come. The next moment that they’ll be utterly worn out and have to build themselves up again. Whereas the rest of us, when the bus came, let it wash over us like water, not letting it affect us any longer after it was finally gone. 

I guess that was just another way to sort out different kinds of people. Those who let things tear them apart, just so that they have to build themselves back up into a better version, and the people that are already okay with who they are.