A customer like no other- a deep observation of society's leftovers.
It's 11:30pm, and the night has fallen heavily on a thursday night.
Around this time is when the city dies, when there is nothing left on the roads and parking lots but some scattered trash from the day's users.
Left at Nick's 24/7 was me and Kyle, the night guy everyone hates to work with.
He has a shaved head, drinks often, alone in his life dream of becoming a professional chef. He is truly in the wrong place. His booksy knowledge of cookery in the six dollar an hour atmosphere of the Nick's kitchen is far out of place.
The night customers are much different than the day. The latest and darkest part of the night welcomes the people from the corners of the alleys, the pits of life.
One observation I've recorded in my mind, is the amount of homosexual customers we get after midnight. It's sad, I wish they came during the day. They know that here at Nick's, anyone and anything is welcome in our doors. Then you get the eccentrics, the people half-clothed. Some in a skanky way, others more barbaric.
But then one man approached the counter. He wore a faded Samurai Comics hat, protecting him from no sun. He must be in his 30s, with a recently shaven face.
Behind his glasses hid tiny eyes. He wore a plain white shirt, rolled up at the sleeves, and black jeans pulled up high. His hands had no cracks, as if he took close care of them. He repeatedly took them in and out of his pockets.
"Hello sir, how are you this fine evening?" I smiled at him, like one would welcome a scared child.
One arm instantly shot out of his pocket and aggressively rubbed his other arm as the man looked around the room, making sure it wouldn't close in on him.
"Would you like a slice of pizza, how about a drink?"
"Hi...hi!" he said building confidence, "Can I have your special, I get it all the time."
"Two slices and a drink, sure what on it?"
"Pepperoni and... and mushroom," his eyes darted away to the corner of the ceiling, and froze there for a moment, then back to me.
"4.85 please, here's your drink, go have a seat there and relax," I said as his shaky hand placed a wrinkly five on my counter.
"Thank you sir, it'll be out in five minutes or so," I smiled at him, trying to make him feel safe.
He nodded, reassured, then without a second glance, moved quickly outside and stared into the trashcan that sat outside the entrance door.
As Kyle made the man's order in the kitchen, I kept observing the man, wondering what his mind must be going through.
I could only see half of him, he slowly put his hand into the trash and pulled something out, examining it with interest.
I turned back to Kyle, and gestured towards the man outside, "Who's this guy?"
"Oh that's Aaron. Not all of his dogs are barkin."
I relayed Kyle's words in my head as I went back to watching the man.
He was done with the trashcan now, and was now standing in front of the quarter machines. They are the kind of machines where you put a quarter inside, turn the handle, and a cheap toy or gumball pops out the bottom slot.
He was playing with the handles now, turning each one and checking the slot, but he never put a quarter in any of them. After checking them all, he came up to me at the counter again, his eyes fixed on mine.
"What's up Aaron, back for more?" I smiled at him. His icy gaze melted at my statement, I knew his name, he must be famous! he thought.
A huge grin spread on his face and he stuck out his hand, the one not jammed in his pocket.
"Hi I'm Aaron!" he said.
"I'm Andrew, I hear you come in here often?"
He then divulged a conversation about nothing, that went on for a long time, covering 80s sci fi movies to how he's allergic to nuts and that why he didn't order them on his slice.
At the end, he said, "Hey, you like chocolate?"
"Oh yeah I-" and just like that he burst out of the store.
A bit thrown off, I paused a moment, then bent down to grab the spray bottle, planning to clean around up front. Upon standing back up, the man was already back standing before me.
A mashed bag of Hershey's chocolate bars in his hand. "Hey can I wash your tables?" he asked.
"Sure, if you want." I said, giving him the bottle and my rag.
He smiled a huge smile, like he was king of the world and went off on a mission to clean the tables for his new friend.
I ate chocolate bars and watched him wash my tables, intrigued.
Then the 1:30am rush arrived. Kyle and I worked like machinery, and our new ally Aaron kept the front cleaner than I could ever do myself.
At 2:30am, the store was empty. The three of us stood outside looking at the dead world around us like three desperados.
Kyle reclined, having a cigarette, Aaron ate from his warm chocolate bag.
I stood with them, keys in hand.
"Aaron, you're a cool guy man. Kyle, good work tonight."
They both said their goodbyes as I got in my MR2, the only car in the vast parking lot.
Around this time is when the city dies, when there is nothing left on the roads and parking lots but some scattered trash from the day's users.
Left at Nick's 24/7 was me and Kyle, the night guy everyone hates to work with.
He has a shaved head, drinks often, alone in his life dream of becoming a professional chef. He is truly in the wrong place. His booksy knowledge of cookery in the six dollar an hour atmosphere of the Nick's kitchen is far out of place.
The night customers are much different than the day. The latest and darkest part of the night welcomes the people from the corners of the alleys, the pits of life.
One observation I've recorded in my mind, is the amount of homosexual customers we get after midnight. It's sad, I wish they came during the day. They know that here at Nick's, anyone and anything is welcome in our doors. Then you get the eccentrics, the people half-clothed. Some in a skanky way, others more barbaric.
But then one man approached the counter. He wore a faded Samurai Comics hat, protecting him from no sun. He must be in his 30s, with a recently shaven face.
Behind his glasses hid tiny eyes. He wore a plain white shirt, rolled up at the sleeves, and black jeans pulled up high. His hands had no cracks, as if he took close care of them. He repeatedly took them in and out of his pockets.
"Hello sir, how are you this fine evening?" I smiled at him, like one would welcome a scared child.
One arm instantly shot out of his pocket and aggressively rubbed his other arm as the man looked around the room, making sure it wouldn't close in on him.
"Would you like a slice of pizza, how about a drink?"
"Hi...hi!" he said building confidence, "Can I have your special, I get it all the time."
"Two slices and a drink, sure what on it?"
"Pepperoni and... and mushroom," his eyes darted away to the corner of the ceiling, and froze there for a moment, then back to me.
"4.85 please, here's your drink, go have a seat there and relax," I said as his shaky hand placed a wrinkly five on my counter.
"Thank you sir, it'll be out in five minutes or so," I smiled at him, trying to make him feel safe.
He nodded, reassured, then without a second glance, moved quickly outside and stared into the trashcan that sat outside the entrance door.
As Kyle made the man's order in the kitchen, I kept observing the man, wondering what his mind must be going through.
I could only see half of him, he slowly put his hand into the trash and pulled something out, examining it with interest.
I turned back to Kyle, and gestured towards the man outside, "Who's this guy?"
"Oh that's Aaron. Not all of his dogs are barkin."
I relayed Kyle's words in my head as I went back to watching the man.
He was done with the trashcan now, and was now standing in front of the quarter machines. They are the kind of machines where you put a quarter inside, turn the handle, and a cheap toy or gumball pops out the bottom slot.
He was playing with the handles now, turning each one and checking the slot, but he never put a quarter in any of them. After checking them all, he came up to me at the counter again, his eyes fixed on mine.
"What's up Aaron, back for more?" I smiled at him. His icy gaze melted at my statement, I knew his name, he must be famous! he thought.
A huge grin spread on his face and he stuck out his hand, the one not jammed in his pocket.
"Hi I'm Aaron!" he said.
"I'm Andrew, I hear you come in here often?"
He then divulged a conversation about nothing, that went on for a long time, covering 80s sci fi movies to how he's allergic to nuts and that why he didn't order them on his slice.
At the end, he said, "Hey, you like chocolate?"
"Oh yeah I-" and just like that he burst out of the store.
A bit thrown off, I paused a moment, then bent down to grab the spray bottle, planning to clean around up front. Upon standing back up, the man was already back standing before me.
A mashed bag of Hershey's chocolate bars in his hand. "Hey can I wash your tables?" he asked.
"Sure, if you want." I said, giving him the bottle and my rag.
He smiled a huge smile, like he was king of the world and went off on a mission to clean the tables for his new friend.
I ate chocolate bars and watched him wash my tables, intrigued.
Then the 1:30am rush arrived. Kyle and I worked like machinery, and our new ally Aaron kept the front cleaner than I could ever do myself.
At 2:30am, the store was empty. The three of us stood outside looking at the dead world around us like three desperados.
Kyle reclined, having a cigarette, Aaron ate from his warm chocolate bag.
I stood with them, keys in hand.
"Aaron, you're a cool guy man. Kyle, good work tonight."
They both said their goodbyes as I got in my MR2, the only car in the vast parking lot.