Chapter 14: Dani, Chiquita, and a Plastic Kangaroo

First, a quick shout-out to Dani. Okay, not quite first. FIRST, a quick apology for the term "shout-out." I couldn't think of anything else that worked quite as well. "Nod to?" Too subtle. "Hello to?" just slightly more awkward than "shout-out."

Sidetracked. Back to Dani. Dani has been waiting patiently for Chapter 14 ever since I wrote about rolling my first pretzel in Chapter 1. There were many times that I considered skipping some chapters and going right to Chapter 14. For instance, did I really need to write about the thirteen seconds I spent working at Campus Colors? Now I fear that I have waited so long that hype has inevitably been built. Hype that cannot be lived up to. That will result in some sort of last-episode-of-your-favorite-sitcom-esque epic letdown.

Yes. Anticipation has been building for Chapter 14. For years, now. For nobody else but Dani.

Java City happened as if by miracle. I have no recollection of applying for the job. I think I did it online? Perhaps somebody applied online on my behalf as a prank, since I can't think of any legitimate reason why someone would voluntarily seek employment in the school cafeteria. Although...this wasn't just any cafeteria. This was the cafeteria at the UNIVERSITY CENTER!
University Center could (and should. Definitely SHOULD) have its own chapter. In the interest of keeping this chapter succinct and on-topic, I will describe the University Center in ten words.

Large. Sterile. Pivileged artistic types. Key cards. Also made friends.

Onwards and upwards. I was on track to work in the cafeteria at the University Center. Well, kind of. I was on track to work at Java City, the coffee annex of the cafeteria. So, apparently I applied? Yeah. Ok. Sure. But I never heard anything from them. Until...

One day I was very unhappy with the service in the cafeteria, so I did what anybody looking to better the system would do. I took to the internets and wrote a scathing letter to management. I complained about the amount of time students have to wait in line, the rudeness of employees, the disproportion between the price and quality of the food, and the bone I found in my chimichanga. Okay, that's a lie. I only complained about the bone. Baby steps. Revolution takes time.

The next day, I got a phone call from one of the managers. I was nervous. Was this a response to my (probably too) harsh worded letter? Were they out to get me? Was my meal plan cancelled? Was I expelled from college? None of the above. They wanted to offer me a job slinging coffee.

Ummmmm...okay. What better way to make the changes I think need to be made than from the inside? Infiltrate the system. Get that revolution underway. Start with the chimichangas.

And my time at Java City began.

The people. I can't go any further without telling you of the people I worked with. First, there was Chiquita, one of my managers/favorite people in the world. Chiquita was one ridiculius hairstyle away from being a parody of black women, and I loved her. We called eachother boo. Even after I stopped working in the cafeteria she would give me free food. "Chiquita gotchu!" she would always say. We bonded over our affinity for complaining about spoiled college students and how the man was keeping us down. OH! I worked woman named Georgia AND a woman named Maryland. True. Georgia isn't that strange of a name. Look no further than the labial undertones of artist Georgia O'Keefe. Maryland? Less common..but it was pretty much the fact that I worked with two states that made it interesting.
One thing that people often got confused by was the fact that just because you saw me every day, it didn't mean we were friends. Dani can vouch for this. Oh....Dani. How would I have made it through those months at Java City if you weren't there by my side? Actually, probably pretty easily because the job didn't require much more than a third grade education...and that's only if you actually intended to ring people up properly as opposed to blindly pressing buttons then giving away items for free. That requires even less. That's usually how I operated. Not necessarily because I wanted to be nice. There were plenty of jackasses who I had no intentions of doing favors for. Not necessarily because I wanted to stick it to the man (Chiquita would have loooved that) and mess up their inventory count. Too much work. Mostly because I was just. that. lazy.

Not too lazy to have fun in other creative ways, though. Dani and I weren't too lazy to make signs to put over the menu that said things like "Smoothies make you ugly!" Not too lazy to harass random customers on chicken tender night by barking "show me your tenders!" Not too lazy to cut up cups, lids, sleeves, straws, and any other supply deemed necessary to destroy for the sake of art, in order to make various models and figures. I still have my kangaroo.


The best part of Java City was, by far, passing the time in odd yet artistic ways with Dani. We were kind of like partners in crime. We would hide the fruit in the back cooler and then tell people we were out, in order to avoid making smoothies (and in turn, avoid turning people ugly.) We would run out of white mocha mix and replace it with skim milk, then leave a note on the counter that says "this is not white mocha mix! just milk. didn't feel like making white mocha!" We would harass our neighbor at the pizza station. And, above all, we would sit back and quietly judge every person who came to our counter while working on various project such as the aforementioned kangaroo sculpture, collages, and my personal favorite, mixing random drinks. One time I SWORE I made the most delicious drink of all time. Minty. Chocolatey. I think I put chai tea in there as well. It ended up tasting like toothpaste. Or so I was told. I never tasted it.
The worst part of Java City was, by far, the scheduling. I didn't mind working lunch or dinner shifts, and even 6am breakfast didn't bother me that much. Remember, these were the days when working three days a week and going to class four was considered a full schedule, so my day was sprinkled with plenty of nap opportunities throughout. It was working until after midnight that killed me. Again. College student schedule. All of your friends go out on a Friday night and here you are twiddling your thumbs and sitting on the counter (to the dismay of Chiquita) and just wishing someone would come in and order something - even a fucking smoothie, to cure your boredom. But alas, while every college student in America may not abide by the same party schedule, one thing remains constant. They do not eat in the dorm cafeteria on Friday nights at midnight.

It may not have shaped my life. It may not have been the backdrop to some life-altering coming of age story like Twist & Shout or Disney World. But Java City does stand out from most of my other jobs for one simple reason.

I had fun, damn it.