Everything is Shitty

Chapter One - Application

Craig
     The loud beeping wakes me up, bringing me into another shitty day with shitty people complaining about their shitty food. I'm there from open to close. I try to get in all the hours I can. Not just because my roommate doesn't like to keep jobs, and thinks the internet is a job. Just because there's nothing else for me to do. I know, I'm in the 'prime of my life' I'm supposed to be into going out, drinking with friends and having a ton of sex. I'm just not, and I don't want to.
     I pull myself out of bed and stretch. Taking a quick shower before putting my uniform on. Good thing it's just a t-shirt and black jeans. We have a casual attire. It shows how much we fuckin care about their food. Not at all.
     I get in my car and drive all the way across town for work. Once I arrive everyone smiles at me, I just wave back. Haven't done much smiling, or... talking. Since he left.
    He left and took all the best parts of me that he created with him. Leaving me with my cold, unfeeling body. Since he left, I haven't touched another person, I freak out when they do touch me, I haven't touched myself either. God, he left me in seventh grade and I'm still not over it.
     I clock in and sit in the office doing some work. That's how I usually start my day. This work is meaningless and eventually I hear the sound of people and the grill going crazy; I should probably go help with the ice cream or somewhere in the kitchen, but I won't. I'm working in here and they've got it.
     I hear the ding in the computer and see an application has popped up. I scroll through it. This is Marsh. Stan Marsh. Really? Ugh. I suppose I could do his interview today. He's got his phone number on there I'll just use it.

[Craig Tucker]
>Your interview is at noon today. Don't be late.

That's all I have to say to him. He's an asshole that got me stuck in Peru, but I'll give his sad ass a chance

[Stan Marsh]
>Thank you so much!

Jesus what a black and white fuckin response. I'll see what he wants out of this job when he gets here. It seems sad and pathetic that he wants a job /here/, but I'm one to talk. I manage this fuckin place.
Eventually, Noon rolls around and I see Marsh talking to someone on register. She comes back and informs me that he's here and I emerge from the back. Motioning for him to come join me, usually I do this sort of thing in the dining area, but he's gonna get the job, so it hardly matters. He's old enough, he's had experience, I know it, and he seems to have a good work ethic. Unless he doesn't bomb this interview.

Stan
As soon as I see Craig I see all my chances for this job draining. He's a dick! Of course I'm not getting this job. I sigh. Might as well do the interview anyway. Tell my mom that I at least tried.
He leads me into the back and sits me down in his office, closing the door. There are already two desk chairs in there already I can just.. take one... I think... no wait I've gotta shake his hand first. I hold my hand out for his. He glares at it before giving me that expression.
"Sit down." He orders, and so I do. He sits after me.
"I don't touch. Marsh." He adds. He doesn't? Didn't he used to hold Tweek all the time? Well... I haven't seen him smile much after they broke up because Tweek thought he was straight. Fucking- everyone is gay in 7th grade. They're all confused about it and shit. Even I was, but I just turned out Bi, so I guess it did mean something.
"Understandable." He looks at me. His eyes are honey colored. They're comfortable. No matter how cold and intimidating his stare is.
"Why are you here?" He asks as he picks up a clipboard
"For... an interview?" I answer. That makes him crack a smile, though it's short lived.
"No, you fuckin idiot. Why do you want this job?" He re-asks as he sighs.
"Because I need a job... my parents are at their wits end with me... my girlfriend left... I have no stability... so the least I can do is get a job and start trying to have an actual life." I answer

Craig
He's sharing too much with me. God what a man. Owning up to his failed life. Working here as an attempt to get over it. I'm no better. Fuckin manager of this place.
"Would you prefer working up front or in the kitchen?" I ask, I always do. It's the only kindness I give.
"The kitchen" He answers. Yeah I can see it. He'd make a good grill cook.
"Alright, and uh... if you could- Nope..." I'm not gonna ask him to describe himself. "I think that's all I really need from you." I go down the list of questions I can't ask him.
"So... do I get to work here?" Stan asks
"Yes. Come by... ah fuck it... I'll come in tomorrow and get your paperwork all filled out, and we'll get you on next week's schedule" I don't make eye contact with him. He stands up.
"Thank you so much Craig." He says as he leaves and I sigh.
Now I've gotta work with that fuckin asshole.