In my last entry I said I might write more about high school. I know the suspense has been killing you, so, without further ado, I will bring on both da noise and da funk. Please remain seated and keep your arms and legs inside the vehicle at all times. Do not attempt to exit the ride until it comes to a complete stop.

So, back to Subway. One more thing came to mind. During the last summer I worked there between semesters at Clemson, my bosses decided, based solely on my age that I was responsible enough to take on some light managerial duties. The most puzzling aspect of this, to me, is that they knew me long before making this decision. Newsflash: Turning 18 in no way, shape or form made me more responsible or any smarter. Really, ask anyone that knew me. It only meant I could vote, join the armed forces, and be tried as an adult. Anyway, once again, I have gotten off track.

Quick background info: Each employee was assigned a weekly “chore” which, if completed, earned them a slight per-hour bonus. My boss decided I could come up with each employee’s chore and assist with the scheduling. The scheduling I was fine with, we all worked together fairly well, except for Brandi, who I will tell you about in a bit (I had forgotten about her until just now.) Anyway, since I knew and liked most of the people I worked with, I assigned relatively easy, but somewhat wacky chores. For instance, Chief (I can’t remember his real name, never could, so I always called him “Chief”) was assigned the task of polishing the door knobs. I also did this because it amused me to no end to tell Chief he needed to go polish the knob. I’m hilarious. Some other tasks included dusting the bottom of the tables, making sure the plants had enough water (they were fake,) and polishing the fire extinguisher. My boss was not amused, but I was, and that’s what I was going for.

Now, really quickly, before I forget: Brandi, the strangest coworker and one of the worst liars I have ever met. Even worse than local politicians. She regularly wore a bikini under her Subway uniform, which I knew because she would always show me (which didn’t bother me in the least. I said she was crazy, not ugly.) She also had some of the most bizarre excuses for not showing up to work. Once she called in (and I am not making this up) and said that her ex-boyfriend had threatened to blow up her house, so she was in hiding. Then, about 3 hours into what would have been her shift, she comes strolling in to pick up her paycheck. When asked what happened to being in hiding, her reply was “Yeah, I was earlier. Not now.” Seriously.

Tune in next time for stories about home-made horror movies, swimming in the river, and the answer to the age-old question “What the hell is wrong with you?”