My McBuddy

Everyone is guilty of making assumptions of people based on first impressions, what they wear, and how they act. Sometimes these assumptions may be right, but most of the time they are completely off. My first impression of Charles Anthony Short: he was a self-centered, arrogant jerk that thought he was better than everyone else. I stayed away from him, and he returned the favor. This all changed a couple days after his nine-month-joke-of-a-relationship and my eight-month-blonde-moment-relationship ended. We started talking a lot more, probably because we could relate to each other. Either way, my first impressions were somewhat accurate.

“This has onions on it,” a balding customer complained. “I asked for no onions.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” I replied, faking a smile so he thought I actually cared. “I’ll get a new one for you.” I walked to the landing zone for the completed sandwiches by the flashing drive-thru order screens. “Charlie, can you make me a cheeseburger with no onions, please?”

“What’s that you’re holding?” he asked, pointing at the yellow wrapping paper, cradling an artery-clogging sandwich in my hands. His face was a dark pink from the heat.

“It’s the old one,” I replied, hoping he would just remake the sandwich already, because I definitely wasn’t in the mood for his attitude.

“Let me see it,” he said.

Here we go, I thought to myself, rolling my eyes.

I slid the cheeseburger down the smudged, stainless steel table. He unwrapped the yellow paper and examined it like a dentist looks inside someone’s mouth. He took the top half of the bun and wiped it off on the wrap. He reached for a new wrap, and he made a new cheeseburger on the old bun. “Here you go,” he said, sliding it back down the table. He turned back to the order screen to make another order.

I looked at him in disbelief, “Are you kidding? I’m not serving that! It looks like crap.” I slid the “new” sandwich back to him. “Remake it, now.”

“I’ve seen worse sandwiches than that,” Charlie said, sliding it back to me. His tone got a little deeper. “I’m not remaking it.”

By this time, my manager was fully aware of the situation. Instead of fixing the problem, he decided to step back and watch my reaction.

“Fine, I will,” I said, refusing to look at him. I walked back to the grill area, prepped my buns, and got ready to make the cheeseburger the correct way.

“Okay, okay. I’ll remake it,” Charlie said, the anger disappeared from his voice.

“Good,” I said knocking the “new” old sandwich off the table. “Because I dropped the other one. It was an accident, of course.”

Charlie is one of the most stubborn people I know. The sandwich was obviously not servable, but he thought it was fine, probably because he made it himself. It takes someone to stand up to him in order for him to back down. When he thinks he is right, it’s nearly impossible to get through to him. I should thank him because my manager promoted me to Crew Trainer after this incident, but he doesn’t need another reason to boost his ego.

Work was not only frustrating with him, but it was also the best times I ever had at the Mac Shack because of the childish things he, and sometimes we, did together. I loved coming to work knowing that he was working. We usually showed up a half-hour early just so we could talk beforehand. The greatest shifts were the ones where we were both in grill or both in drive-thru.

I brought the ice from the back cooler to where he was. It was another slow night, and we were all finding random cleaning and stocking jobs to do. He put the ice in the soda dispenser for me, showing off his 22’s. “Wait, I want to try something,” he said as I turned to get some more ice. “Open your mouth.”

“WHOA!” I said, making a dirty joke.

I opened my mouth, and he said excitedly, “Close your eyes, too.”

“Now I’m scared,” I said. I waited a couple of seconds, and something hit the back of my throat fast. It made me gag. I coughed it out. “What the heck was that?”

“A straw wrapper,” he said laughing hard at my reaction. His chubby cheeks framing his wide smile and perfect teeth that I’ve always been jealous of. “Do it to me.”

We probably doubled the straw order because we did that every day at work. When we were bored, when we were busy, when we were happy, or when we were down.

Better times came in the grill area. Charlie and I did pretty amazing in grill together, but we always “got distracted,” according to our managers. I guess we did a lot of singing and dancing to his iPod when we were back there, but it just helped us pass the time and have some fun. I hated when my shifts ended when we were working together because I was the “crib midget” who had to leave at six forty-five every night.

Now that we hang out all the time, his childishness is still apparent, and we always have a good time because of it. We can’t walk through Wal-mart without running around and embarrassing ourselves. We’ll play our version of hide-and-seek with two people. He’ll run around the store, and I’ll try chasing him. Charlie’s singing never really stopped either. Whenever we drive anywhere, whether it’s a two-minute commute or a five-hour journey, he’ll sing the whole way. He thinks he’s a good dancer, too, but I definitely think otherwise.

Remember the “anything you can do, I can do better” commercial? Charlie has the exact attitude with every activity he does, even if he knows he’s not good at it. Like bowling, for instance.

“I’m going to beat you,” he said, assuring me that there was going to be a huge competition right about now.

“Uh huh,” I said, unconvinced because he was talking to someone who’s high game is 212.

“You wanna go?” he joked, pushing me and sizing me up. “Wanna fight?”

“Yeah,” I said, “let’s do this.”

We bowled with another couple that night. The girls beat the guys the first time, but the champs got defeated the second round.

“What up?” he said sarcastically after the game.

“Just tired,” I said.

“Oh, so that’s why you lost, right?” he said, joking with me.

“No,” I said. “I just -”

“I’m just an amazing bowler,” he said, interrupting my thought.

Charlie’s confidence could someday wind him up in trouble, but he claims that he “doesn’t care.” He was driving in his precious 2002 Volkswagen GTI to West Bend’s Starship Tattoo to scope out prices for a piercing. On the way, a very unlucky driver made him angry, and Charlie’s road rage came out. After Charlie got ahead of the driver, he continued on his way to his destination, but the other driver followed him and confronted him when Charlie got out of his car that he loves more than anything else.

“What was up with that?” the driver asked, referring to Charlie’s brake check.

“You were right on my ass, dude,” Charlie said, his temper boiling, face turning red and eyebrows creasing. “You drive like a girl.”

“Do you want to fight?” the driver asked. He was a little taller than Charlie, but he was very skinny. There was no way this little fellow could have a chance against Charlie, even though he is short for a guy. Based on his appearance, he didn’t look like the kind of guy that should be talking like a high school boy filled with raging hormones. “Right now.”

“Dude, I’m not going to fight you right here,” Charlie said, noticing that there were senior citizens on the premises. I could tell he was disappointed he couldn’t show this man a close-up of his fist. Instead, Charlie proceeded to the shop and ignored the guy.

Charlie is an arrogant jerk. But, I’ve seen his soft side in so many different forms, and I know that the rest of it is just a front to impress everyone else.

I consider Charlie the strongest person, physically and mentally, that I know. Sure he can bench press, and he can take out anyone in a boxing match, but that’s just to add to his front. Charlie’s whole world has been turned upside-down this past year, but somehow, he is still standing right-side up, and I admire him for that.

“We are gathered here today, not to mourn a loss, but to celebrate the life of Cindy Short,” the priest began. “I believe the family has prepared a short video to start out our ceremony.”

As the music started playing, and the pictures were flashing by one-by-one, it got harder and harder to breathe. I looked over, and Charlie finally lost it. I felt helpless as I watched everything he was trying so hard to hold in just burst out of him. I gripped his hand a little tighter, and whispered, “It’ll be OK.” My voice couldn’t have sounded very convincing because I wasn’t sure we could move on.

When the video stopped playing, the priest stood up again. “As painful as death may be, we need to understand that that is the cycle of life. We are born. We live, sometimes short, lives. Then, we die. As short as Cindy’s life may have been, there’s not too many people that could walk through life with an ‘I Love Jesus’ purse.”

That exact statement got a soft chuckle out of Charlie.

The next couple of months were extremely difficult, but it keeps getting easier and easier for him every day. Because of the death of both his parents in a single year, Charlie had some growing up to do. The rest of his family came together, and they are all making sure he is taken care of.

“What the hell did you do?” I asked, staring at his head in utter confusion. I was working in first booth, like always.

“I got a Mohawk,” he said, turning a light pink from embarrassment. “What do you think?”

“Um,” I said. I was at a loss for words. “I don’t particularly like Mohawks, but it looks good on you.”

“You hate it,” Charlie finished.

That’s exactly why I love Charlie. No matter what happens, he is still so random and fun. I wouldn’t call him an optimistic person, but he is always pushing forward. He may come off as an intimidating person, but as I learned, he’s the total opposite once you get close to him. He is one of very few people that brings out the little kid in me again, and I’m not embarrassed to be me around him. Charlie still annoys me, but I guess that’s what happens when you become best friends with someone you didn’t like in the first place. Our story goes to show that there is more than what meets the eye.