Homophobic Crapplebee's

My first night as a new employee at Applebee's was just great...yeah....great.

The following is unfortunately a true story...

Applebee’s.  That is my place of employment.  It is a job and I walk out with cash every night.  That is about all I can say about it.  Since the first day of employment, I could tell this was going to be an interesting job, and interesting is an understatement.

Oh the sublime feeling of putting on a new work uniform.  Neatly pressed, a bold black color, a conspicuous lack of stains, and that fresh classic Tide smell that I love.  I must say that I looked damn good in my black slacks and my black button up collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up just so they sit comfortably below the elbows.  Hair immaculately disheveled, facial hair cleanly shaved, teeth white as fluorescent lights, two squirts of The Buckle brand cologne, and three swipes of Old Spice Sport deodorant.  I was one sexy beast that night and ready to give the best customer service ever.  Sure, I had an inflated ego that afternoon, but that is all part of the job.

The drive to Applebee’s seemed to take an eternity.  With every second that passed, butterflies bred like rabbits in my stomach.  That once confident man was now full of doubt.  I pulled into the parking lot twenty minutes early, a bit of an overkill, but for the first day it seemed alright.  I reached the point of no return and had to follow through with the job now. 

Approaching the entrance, the butterflies slowly died or cocooned for returning later.  That may not be how butterflies work, but for this metaphor to work, they now have the ability to build cocoons.  I opened the hefty wooden door for the first time as a new employee and was greeted with the aroma of delicious food and endless opportunities, later to be the stench of nauseating food and dead dreams, but that is a whole different story.  Entering the restaurant with my back straight and head held high, I strutted along with a façade of confidence.  It helped with the confidence that “California Gurls” blared over the speakers because that is a real “Get pumped up and ready to take on the night” song.  The sparsely populated dining room and bar had a low murmur of conversation between patrons.  All the employees, dressed in the exact same black garb as me, gathered at the far end of the bar, which I figured is the place I would most likely find my trainer.  My coworkers took quick glances in my direction and made sure to try and not make eye contact.  I anxiously stood at the end of the bar waiting for my trainer to reveal themself.  As I waited, the workers mainly kept to themselves while I stood there in the awkward new employee too shy to talk to someone stance.  They did not converse with me, but their faces revealed what they were really thinking.  He looks like a good worker, what a cool guy, now there is a sexy man, I bet he is gay.  And so it began.

After standing by the bar for what seemed like hours, even though the clock said thirty seconds, my trainer finally came out.  Sarah.  With shoulder length brown hair, a slim build, and average height, Sarah resembled a brunette Taylor Swift.  She was kind, but had the personality of a doorknob, which made for a long, droning night.  That night I played shadow, or I was supposed to.  In reality, like any smart trainer would do, she demonstrated proper serving techniques for the first table and then made me do the rest of the work for the night, all while keeping half of the tips, of course.  I cannot say she acted totally vicarious all night, she did teach me basic rules and gave helpful advice.  Be sure to write the down the whole order.  Make sure to repeat the order back to the customer.  Always look your best.  Try to make a friend at every table.  Use your “sizzle” words.    

A short period of stillness came over the restaurant and I had time to meet my first coworker, Gina.  Gina looked like Ugly Betty, sans the ugly.  We started the classic “meeting for the first time” conversation.  Where are you from?  Do you go to school?  What do you study?  Psychology?  I hope you aren’t analyzing me!  How do you like it here so far?  Then, for some strange reason, this conversation took a turn for the worse.  Are you gay?  I felt my face take the shape of a teenager’s when told he was adopted.  Shock, awe, confusion, and bewilderment filled my mind.  What?  Am I gay?  All I could say in my state of shock was “umm…no.”  I kept thinking to myself that maybe that was only a one-time thing, just a misunderstanding.  Maybe I reminded her of a gay friend?  Or maybe it was because when I received my apron I said “Oh, this is cute.”  Just to be clear, I am not gay, not that there is anything wrong with that.  Whatever, I put it behind and kept on training.  One glitch was not going to mess up the night.   Sarah and I, mainly I, continued to provide patrons with the five star service they deserved.

I got fairly confident with my serving abilities after a few tables and by then I had a short routine down.  Approach the table with a big smile, place down the beverage napkins, and say my short greeting.  “Hi, how are you guys doing tonight?  Good?  Me too.  Can I start you off with some drinks?  We have flavored lemonades, Iced Teas, Pepsi products, and our featured drink the Perfect Patron Margarita.”  This serving thing was easy.  Greet, get drinks, take order, bring food, rush them out the door.  All I do is follow this same repetitive action all night and then go home.  Easy.

Two hours into my training, I realized I only formally met one coworker outside of Sarah.  Not letting my first horrible conversation get me down, I decided to try and meet another worker.  Standing at five feet and some change with the round face of a young child beaming after receiving a lollipop, Tera, a host, looked harmless enough to chat with.  Walking up to her, before I could even introduce myself, she wasted no time with getting to what she had undoubtedly been thinking about for quite some time.  So, are you gay?  What was going on with this place?  Was the staff playing some cruel joke on me?  “No.  No I’m not.”  At least I did not think so.  Really?  Well, do you own a Razor scooter? “No.”  A RipStik?  “I have no idea what that is.”  Is your favorite color the rainbow? “No.”  Do you watch Bravo?  Do you love Madonna?  Are you obsessed with “Say Yes to the Dress”?  Do you GTL?  “No, no, no, and what?”  GTL?  I did not know Fond du Lac was equivalent to Jersey Shore.  Besides, I do not need to “Gym, Tan, Laundry.” The Situation has nothing on me.

So two out of two coworkers probably still saw me as gay, which is not ideal.   I wanted to try meeting one more coworker before the night came to an end.  Eyeing up the staff, I studied each person carefully, trying to determine which ones will not be distracted by my gay aura that I supposedly gave off.  My crosshair landed on a petite brunette, who looked like a mix of Zooey Deschanel’s face on Mila Kunis’ body.  I walked up as heterosexual as possible, always aware of my facial expressions (serious, no smile, kind of badass) and body language (back straight, chin high, totally badass like Dolph Lundgren).  Are you the new guy?  Obviously.  I am being trained and she has never seen me before.  “Yes.”  Cool, you seem like a nice person, I have this great guy you should meet.  You totally look like his type.  His type…what does she mean by that?  Oh no.  Is this for shirts and giggles?  If so, I am not laughing, nor will I ever laugh at this.  That was the last coworker I talked to for the night.    

After five hours, my training finally came to an end.  That could very well have been the longest and most awkward night of my life.  Never before did so many people question my sexuality, at least not confront me about it.  I untied my apron, punched out, said my goodbyes, and went home.  I did it.  I survived the night.

Well, that is the story of my first night at Applebee’s.  Anytime someone starts a new job and thinks they have a bad first day, just think “well, at least it is not as bad as that first night for that homo Robbie.”  For reasons unbeknownst to me, I still work there and am going on three years of employment.  I guess I love that job more than I think…yeah right.