Saucy Alfredo

March 27, 2011 at 11:50 am (Cussed Dumbers)

As I was ranting to Dr T the other day about a co-worker, I said “You know, I’ve learned to be careful of ragging on my co-workers. They could become my supervisor on down the line. Like Uncle Cliffy…”

Dr T said, “I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that with Alfredo.”

I have a fellow employee who has earned more nicknames than any other. I can think of nine right off the bat. But for this one time only, I’m dubbing him Alfredo. It will become clear why by the end of the story.

I will start by saying that I believe Alfredo means well most of the time, but he drifts into dark territory on occasion. Things disappear, he develops a diva-like demeanor, and the stories! Oh, the stories…

Alfredo came on board two or three years ago. He was hired when Master P was desperate; the fact that Alfredo had any cashiering experience and lived downtown were the main motivating factors in his hiring. He’d worked for a corporate store for a while, and would follow any order, no matter how insipid. Master P decided to give Alfredo a chance.

Guess who got to train him?

Alfredo’s most recognizable traits are his incessant giggling, and replying to everything one says with “I know…”

“Hey Alfredo, there’s a giant snake making its way out of your ass!”

“Oh I know. Hee he-he-he-he… You’re joking, right?”

Eyeroll…

Alfredo's Typical Facial Expression

The first night we worked together, he told me he was married with children. It seemed unlikely, but who’s to say? I’ve known a lot of oddball people who found someone equally as odd to cohabitate and breed with. I raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment when he purchased $26 worth of men’s muscle magazines and a tube of aloe-vera gel before disappearing into the bathroom for thirty minutes. He emerged drenched in sweat and smelling like feral poop-funk.

He managed to pass orientation, and was shipped off to work with Grinder. He takes orders well most of the time, and Grinder turned him into his personal office boy and snitch. I’d look across the street at night, and see Alfredo staring at the store intently, tapping his cigarette ash every few seconds. Eventually he found someone else to focus on. While I don’t do stuff at work that gets me into trouble, it felt weird to be under surveillance.

He took to visiting the stores during his off-time. He’d hit every store, every shift, and take a muscle mag to the bathroom. We made jokes about it. He said he was back there doing push-ups because he was on a weight-loss regimen. We figured with him whacking off during three shifts at three stores, (nine times a day) anyone would be giggling all the time.

One night Roscoe relieved him. Roscoe took over the till, Alfredo went to the office to count out. When finished, instead of leaving, Alfredo went to the bathroom with one of his magazines. An hour later, Roscoe locked up the store because nature called and wanted some of its resources back. When he walked into the bathroom, he caught Alfredo pounding away at full speed. Oh, the humanity!

Roscoe is a worldly guy, and understands the need for tension release, but there’s a time and a place for everything. He told Master P, who agreed to have a word with Alfredo.

Before that happened, he was caught again, this time by Elmo. Elmo made such an issue that the boss had to have a talk with Alfredo. (Oh, how I wish I could have been a fly on the wall for that convo.) Master P told him to do that sort of thing away from the workplace, because if he was caught again he’d be told to beat it.

Uh, maybe he didn’t phrase it exactly that way…

At this point Alfredo joined a gym, so he’d have somewhere official to do “push-ups.” He joined a gym where the steam rooms have signs stating “The Lights MUST Remain On At All Times” and “Anyone caught engaging in sexual behavior will have their membership revoked.” I know this because I used to go to that gym. A visit to the showers would get you a ‘Hey baby’ response from Craigslist, with invitations to do more than be someone’s spotter.

At this point he came out as gay. He pierced his right earlobe. (“The gay one! He he he he he…”) He obtained a “boyfriend”, a dude about sixty who looked like he lived in the back row of a porno theater. Alfredo would spend his evenings dancing at Silverado and buying the boys drinks. Finally, something to keep his hands occupied…

He recently asked if I knew anything about donating plasma?

“Yeah, I’ve done it about five hundred times.” I told him the basics, and finished with, “-and say NO if they ask if you have asthma, or have ever had sex with a prostitute or a man.”

“It’s okay, I don’t have to lie, because I haven’t. He he he he he he.”

“But… you’re gay. And have a boyfriend…” Suddenly I didn’t want to know.

I do know what I’m getting him for Christmas next year: A copy of a Cherry Poppin’ Daddies CD.

Religion is another source of confusion. He was an Episcopalian who converted to Judaism. Unofficially, of course. This led to a couple weeks where he spoke in a Yiddish accent. Oy vey! He was dubbed Uncle Leo, after the Seinfeld character. He quit doing it after co-workers openly mocked him. (About the accent, not the religion.) He gave up on being a Jew around Christmas time, but still won’t eat pork. Unless it’s bacon.

Ah, food. He saves ALL the expired, moldy throwaway food, picks the bad parts off and eats it anyway. (“But it’s just the blueberries that are moldy. The rest of the muffin is FINE!”) He carries a giant blue duffelbag full of foodstuff and dinnerware. He makes kitchen magic with the store microwave and throwaway cookware, then eats it on fine china and silverware that he carries at all times.

The grisliest thing I’ve seen him cook was a combination of lentils, peanut butter and Trader Joe’s salsa. He mixed it all together with a box of Rice-A-Roni. (The San Francisco treat!) It stunk so bad even he wouldn’t eat it.

In front of me, anyway.

So, the other night, after he’d irritated then outright lied to me, I was angry and vented to my lovely late-night bus driver. I told her of the lies, the giggling, the know-it-all responses to everything. Then I began telling her of his foodie exploits. “I’ve seen him eat two full-sized jars of Alfredo sauce in one sitting. He’ll scarf the whole thing down, then cook another one! Yet he claims he’s lost 127 pounds since he went on his ‘diet’.”

She smiled. “Well, if he’s whacking off nine times a day, maybe he’s not eating Alfredo sauce. Maybe he’s reloading?”

Eww…

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1 Comment

  1. CiCi said,

    Lol I can’t believe I READ THE WHOLE THING! lol . Hillarious how does he still work there! Lol I couldn’t touch the money or til after THAT GUY!!!! YEEEYUK

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