Food Truck

Jeff looked out the window over the cash register in front of him. The line was twice a long as yesterday, perhaps longer, it was wrapping the corner of the street and he couldn’t see the end to it. So many faces he recognized from daily purchases at his food truck. “How could people afford to buy barbecue meats on a daily basis?” He though to himself. It was so expensive to get meat nowadays. Everything was more expensive, but meat was leading the charge, and it was doing it with reckless abandon.

It was going to be a hard days work today, but at least it would go by quickly. Jeff learned long ago that being busy was the surest way to have the work day go by fast. Rainy days were the worst. You’d just have to stare out into the street and watch the rain drop for hours on end. The outside chance someone braved a storm for some jerk chicken. It was rare for sure. Those were also the days he would be there alone, no point in paying two or more people to do nothing but watch the rain.

Today that was not the case. He had three people with him, one working all the grills and smokers, one prepping and plating sides, one keeping things outside stocked and cleaned up, and himself, he got the joy of working the cash register. He liked working this spot at the truck. It allowed him to see peoples smiling faces when they received their order. Or offer a suggestion of the “best” item on the menu. The secret here is the “best” item was either whatever they had the most of that day, or something that was getting closer to the point of having to be thrown out, like extra fries going past the 30 minute mark.

An older man approached the truck and was looking confusedly at the menu plastered to the side of the vehicle.

“What can I get for yah?” Jeff asked. The older man was wearing a light hoodie. He had tufts of red hair poking out with lines of gray interspersed. He had on well worn blue jeans, that may or may not have been washed in the last few weeks. He was wearing penny loafers on his feet and looked a little startled when he heard Jeff’s voice.

“Oh, uh… Can I get a quarter pound of brisket, and some waffle fries?” He asked looking uncertain if this was possible given the menu.

“Sure thing man.” Jeff replied as he pressed his fingers lightly on the touch screen to get the items onto the bill. He looked at the order and told the man what the price was. The old man paid with some crumpled up bills he produced from his right pants pocket and handed them over to Jeff.

“Keep the change,” the old man said as he passed the money. It wasn’t much of a tip, but Jeff didn’t mind. He was just happy to be able to give this guy some great food.

-V-