<div class="floatleft">(https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/de/46/00/de460000d103b2a84c5891d8aeb1819e.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Wyatt Colton Faulkner (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=250173.msg12370769#msg12370769)<br/><strong>City | Date | Time:</strong>St. Cloud, Minnesota | I-Hop | January 2014 | 11:30 p.m.<br/><strong>Tagging | Mentioning:</strong>Silky Levres (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=250173.msg12373275#msg12373275)<br/><strong>Content:</strong>Another day, Another dollar<br/><hr/><br/>To say he was exhausted would have been a vast understatement. Today was supposed to be his much-deserved day off from work; however, one of his co-workers called him, practically wailing on the phone, and asked for him to pick up their shift. Seeing as it was a family emergency, he could not really bring himself to decline, especially when his plans for the day involved taking a few shoots around the downtown area and then spending the rest of his time in bed. It could wait, right?<br/><br/>One of his friendlier co-workers, Rebekah, immediately shook her head from side to side when he ambled through the main entry doors of the popular restaurant. Of no doubt, she was probably recalling their most recent conversation last night when Wyatt confessed to feeling overworked and unappreciated within his position.<br/><br/>He understood his position as a dishwasher was not crucial or overly complicated. Scrub, wash, and rinse. It was an endless cycle. They could fire him and find a replacement within a few hours. There was always someone looking for work, willing to fill recently vacated shoes. Anyone, even a child, could wash some dishes. It was not rocket science. However, not everyone would give a damn. Since he'd been hired, little over a year ago, he had never missed a day, even when his body advised him to remain in bed, and actually tried to help the waitresses met whatever stupid goal the manager outlined for the month.<br/><br/>If the morning started out like utter shit, with him being an idiot and accepting a shift, Wyatt learned he would be working the front end of the restaurant, meaning he would be forced to speak with strangers rather than clean up after them. The latter was not much better. People were wasteful swine, spilling syrup all over the place and allowing their kids to practically enact warfare with their food. Regardless of his discomfort with the role, his manager refused to listen to reason, not with people constantly pouring through the door to take advantage of 'All you can eat' pancakes.<br/><br/>It was a small wonder he did not smoke or even drink alcohol. Well, he tried, both actually, but could not bring himself to repeat the experience. Cigarettes smelled godawful, like rotting trash, and left him feeling queasy afterwards. Hard drinks were a little better until the morning time when he suffered from the mother of all hangovers. Either way, Wyatt ended up working a double shift because his boss pressured him into it when yet another person called off, promising he would see a raise or maybe even a few extra dollars on his check. He really could not say no. So he remained, more dead than alive on his feet. Luckily, the crowds started to wane after about 11 at night, with only a few stragglers coming through the door or sporadic groups of drunk  or high college students.<br/><br/>Long intervals of nothing to do provided Wyatt with the opportunity to doze a little and then browse through the internet on his phone. He nearly dropped the complimentary mixture of various sodas when he logged onto Facebook to find an unwanted discovery. Apparently, the first person, the one with the family emergency, had lied to him. Instead of being at the hospital, they spent their day on the beach, soaking in the sunlight and spending time with their friends.<em>Should I message them?</em>He pondered to himself, finger hovering over the button, before he released a sigh and placed his phone on the nearby table. Calling them out about their bullshit would only make the situation worse and cause unnecessary drama. At least now he knew they could not be trusted.<br/><br/>Before he could stress himself out more about it, the bell above the entry door jingled softly, alerting him and everyone else to the fact that they had a customer. Wyatt swiveled around within the seat, where he had been for the past hour or so, and stared across the room to where the woman stood. All he could do was gulp hard as his dark brown eyes roamed across her intimidating face. Seeing as he was the only one on the floor at the moment, he stood from his seat, grabbing some menus, and then made his way over to her.<br/><br/>“Umm, welcome to, uh, I-hop.”<em>Don't stare. Don't piss her off. Don't stare.</em>“Would you like a table or a booth?” He glanced around her to the parking lot, trying to see if someone else would be joining her.