The firing story

Last night ‘Uncle Mike’ came over and jammed with the family on Guitar Hero. I rock. The machine told me so.

Mike was intimidated by the guitar, and wasn’t going to touch the microphone for nobody, so he was drum guy.

But the dots came at him too fast.

In the end Mike worked the foot pedal. He rocked.

I’ve been friends with Mike since I was 17, and he was 22.

I had worked as a hostess at a Mexican restaurant, where the bar had a proper dance floor, disc jockey and tables. After I had been there about six months, the manager built a sports bar and grill next door and asked me to come over to train the hostess staff and work there managing them. I had to dress like a cheerleader. Fun fact: That is the same building where I later sang with a cover band. It is currently Larry Flynt’s Hustler Club.

I became friends with one of the waiters, Hal, who dressed like a baseball player. He was going through something with his girl and we would talk after work.

One day he introduced me to his little brother, whose name a I promptly forgot. He would be working as a busboy with me next door.

His shifts must have always been when I was at the sports bar, (which had a proper dance floor and pool tables), because my concerns about having to address him as ‘Hal’s brother’ never came about.

Then one night I was at the Mexican restaurant and I heard rumblings about two busboys getting fired. It seems the one that was old enough bought a beer for the other, who was underage, right in the restaurant’s bar.

Dumb.

I knew who Rod was, but I didn’t have a face to assign the name ‘Mike,’ so I assumed that was Hal’s brother.

Then Mike walked in, wearing his uniform and carrying his apron. I was confused, “What are you doing here? You’re fired.”

I guess he was the last to know.

My agreeing that he was innocent kicked off a lifelong friendship. He assumed Rod was 21.

Rod got his job back.

Dumb.

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