Simon Says Act Like a Fucking Freak

I’m just a little bit competitive.  Well, I used to be much more competitive when I was younger.  I remember in high school, sometimes teachers would read the names of those who made A’s, and for no other reason than to hear aloud that I was number one I would study extra hard and write 3 pages instead of 2 in hopes of being named top student.

You would have hated me.

I was only 19 when I started as a waitress at Outback in my college town.  I had been working at the Cooker, which is now out of business (even though the Cooker in Murfreesboro has a sign that says "The Cooker Pie is Back" just above the For Rent sign, with some of the letters dangling half-off pitifully), but most of my days there were spent standing around.  Once some of us heard word there would be an Outback opening in town we envisioned our ticket out of that other snore of a restaurant.  And you got to wear jeans!  None of that dry-cleaned 100% cotton shirts, heavily starched, with a tie and khaki pants.  Rumor had it girls could even wear shorts!

So, I interviewed with Outback.  It was a three-day process with a battery of tests to boot.  I was one of the last people hired for the 60-person staff in the trailer office next to the enormous Outback Steakouse neon sign lying on the ground.  Amazing how huge one of those things is when you are walking along beside it.

We trained while the building was being finished.  In fact, most of our first day was spent outside.  Since every single employee there was brand new, they shipped in a team of trainers from other stores to educate and excite the new servers.  One of the five of Outback’s "Principles and Beliefs" is Fun.  They say they make Outback a fun place to work to keep employees happy–this is their philosophy anyway.  The execution is often somewhat lacking.

Anyway, on the very first day of training we played games.  For a couple of hours, I think.  They did this one weird game where you carry a frisbee in your butt and the first one to the finish line wins a giant Foster’s surfboard (NOTE: Not an actual surfboard).  I sat that one out.  But I did get VERY INTO an intense game of Simon Says.  Like I said, there were 60 or so of us, all in dark denim and bushman’s shirts, our trainers leading the game, taking turns playing Simon.  I was focused.  I wanted to win that game.  I had never met 95% of those people before and what better way to introduce myself than by beating them? 

Eventually there were only 8 of us left playing.  Dozens and dozens of my co-workers all stood watching from the sidelines as we fought hard to the end.  The game had gotten tedious by then, but none of us still playing wanted to stop.  So the trainers taking turns playing Simon would switch out more frequently to try to trip us up.  One of the trainers, a petite ex-UT cheerleader from a Knoxville Outback switched places with the previous Simon and yelled as her first instruction, "Jump around and act like a cheerleader!"

Immediately and with great gusto I screamed "Whooooo!" at the top of my lungs, jumped up and down and even kicked my leg into the air.  Alas, I was the only one.  The cute college cheerleader waitress didn’t say "Simon Says," so in front of a sea of strangers who would soon become people I’d see almost every day, I got all Kirstin Dunst in Bring it On in front of everybody.

The wall of laughter from the sidelines was a thousand slaps to my face, and my cheeks were red enough for that to be true.  I ran from the group of players to the only person I knew there, who turned to me and said, "That.  Was awesome."