This particular suburb of Chicago had a twenty-four hour McDonald’s. That is fine for customers who happen to be out and hungry in the wee hours of the morning, but for the workers who drew the short straw, the graveyard shift was nothing but torture. Your mind becomes fuzzy, the room spins, and you confuse orders such as, “Do you want flies with that?” It is never good to offer flies to weary customers.
Jason had reached that point of tiredness when you stare like a zombie into space, and you cannot even remember your name. He was hypnotized by the revolutions the janitor, Steve, made with his mop. Back and forth, back and forth…
“Excuse me, but can I order?”
Jason snapped out of his reverie and ran the customer’s words through his head slowly to make sense of them. After a second of computations, he recognized the question as one he heard before. Another second passed before he came up with the response. “What can I get for you,” seemed to come from somewhere inside of him.
After the customer ordered and left, Steve made his way over to the counter. He was in his late-fifties, overweight from too many years of free food he smooth-talked from the waitresses, and a little unkempt because he lived alone. Jason was Steve’s antithesis-a 21 year-old college kid on break from Notre Dame, where he had earned a football scholarship. He was dark-haired and well-built, and a little in love with himself. His stint at McDonald’s was just a part-time job to earn extra cash for some new football gear. He planned to enter the pro-football world after graduation. Jason never noticed Steve before, and normally would not bother to associate with him, but a lack of companionship at this hour pushed Jason to acknowledge the older man and strike up a conversation with him.
“Boy, it sure is tough working this shift! I am usually the drive-thru guy in the afternoons, but I am filling in for Kathy. She was going away this weekend, and she is kind of cute, and…well, I thought I would be nice. But these hours are crazy!”
The janitor nodded his head with an air of disdain for the younger generation. He answered in his gruff voice, “Good for you-Kathy is a sweet girl. Do you know she wants to be a pediatrician? She works this shift so she can go to classes during the day. That is dedication.”
Jason sensed the challenge in the janitor’s voice. What did he know of dedication, other than the years spent as a janitor. Like he really went far.
“I’m dedicated. I am at school on a football scholarship and studying business management. I spend a lot of hours on classes and practice. I want to impress the scouts when I get back in a couple weeks so I can hopefully play pro ball. How awesome to be on a team, go to the Super Bowl, make it to the Hall of Fame…I guess I am dreaming big.”
Steve nodded, listening intently, the disdain gone from his face “Sounds like you have some pretty impressive plans.” He paused, unsure if he should continue. He took a deep breath, “You know, I was like you once.”
Jason looked at him incredulously. How can he and Steve have anything in common?
Steve continued, “I went to Michigan State and played for their football team. Mind you this was quite a few years ago! I was eventually drafted by the Cowboys, and began my rookie year with the highest expectations. I played well until the middle of the season. I was stupid, got in a car wreck and shattered both my kneecaps. My road to fame ended, and the road to a long recovery began. It took me a year to walk again, and about three years to move with some normality. I am not trying to scare you, just trying to prove that an old janitor and a college star can really have something in common.”
Jason smiled at Steve reading his thoughts. “So….why are you a janitor at McDonald’s?”
“How do you know that all I do is clean greasy floors?”
“Well, I…ummm…”
“It’s ok. This is just a part-time job. I actually coach football at the high school in the next town. I also run a football camp for kids who are down-and-out. This job provides some income to help balance the camp budget.”
“You are a coach? Awesome! I want to hear about your camp, and about the school, and…”
Steve laughed, “OK! But for now, it’s late and I’m tired. What do you say we liven up this place?” And he made his way around the counter, grabbed a crusty old hamburger roll, smiled mischievously, and said, “Go long!”
Jason was at first dumbfounded, but then got the meaning. He hopped over the counter and ran across the freshly cleaned floor to the other side of the store. He made a perfect catch, which drew applause from the invisible crowd. The toss back to Steve scored them a touchdown. The dry bit of bread fell apart in Steve’s hands. He found another, and by the time the two exhausted players flopped down in front of the counter, the entire store was filled with mutilated rolls. As they sat there, Steve gave Jason pointers he learned at Michigan and with the Cowboys. He told of his coaching career and camp, and even offered Jason a chance to counsel if he wanted to help with the kids. The conversation was in full swing until the ring of the doorbell broke into their reverie. They looked up to see the man from the Dunkin’ Donuts across the street somberly surveying the scene. He took in his surroundings as a war correspondent surveys the battlefield after a day of fighting.
Jason and Steve gave each other knowing grins, and spontaneously picked up the nearest buns and hurled them at the poor donut man. The unsuspecting victim turned and ran out, hurrying back to his shop. The two perpetrators saw him talking excitedly to his few co-workers and gesturing toward the McDonald’s. Suddenly, the two friends saw small, round objects flying around the Dunkin’ Donuts. Steve and Jason laughed when they realized that the projectiles were old donuts being used as missiles by the employees.
It is unexpected how one graveyard shift can affect normally sane people and bond them together with mutual respect and an all-out food fight.