Maruis’ Man

by Nic Olson

Going to work today, I knew it was going to be gruesome, but had no idea to what degree. Some say that if you go into the unknown positively then everything will be good. Others say that if you go in to something new thinking it will be the worst time of your life, you usually come out realizing that it really wasn’t that bad and are pleasantly suprised. I went in with neither mindset and that was my mistake.

Mid-shift I began to wonder to myself, ‘What the fuck am I doing in Montreal?’, and as my mentor, Maruis, repeated his directions in French a third time I wondered further, ‘Why did I drop out of French class in grade nine?’. I also began to wonder if this were the movie of my life, would this night of spraying tiny red and blue cups of chicken sauce, of melting the skin off my hands, of pretending dishes are clean by thumbing off BBQ sauce after they’ve been through the wash, be the turning point?
Was this God trying to say, “Well Shit Nic, I do indeed exist and this is what you get for doubting that. You damned moron”?
Was this the universe saying, “Get an education and then we’ll talk.”?
Was this my common sense saying, “Enough prolonging the inevitable, sell-out already.”?
Was this karma telling me,”This is what you get for not washing dishes for five months.”?
Was this Travis telling me, “The Northgate needs you.”?

As the kitchen door swung open I could hear the inebriated singing of ‘Ole’, and as the door swung closed again all I heard was spraying water and the Ultrawash2000 humming and sloshing. I came to Montreal to live a dream and to act independent, when I realize now that all I am doing is delaying the growiing up process, and that it’s hard to live the dream when part of that dream is being lived by thousands of people in the same building as you, as you try to fathom the total opposite side of the enjoyment part of the world.

My hands are perma-raisins and will forever smell like soaked coleslaw and bacon grease as I ponder my next move.

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