“No. Bucking. WAY. I am not going to do that, Spike!” Trixie guffawed at what Spike was presenting before her. “I refuse to wear those symbols of servitude!”
“Trixie, the apron and hat are standard issue uniform. You don’t have a choice. Do you want to earn your half bit or not?”
“I’d rather dig up rocks for a quarter of a bit an hour!” she practically screamed, not caring at all about the many paying customers giving her looks.
“Didn’t you already do that before, anyway? You couldn’t even hold down that job! I suggest you take what you can get at this stage in your life.”
“And just what is this stage in my life? I’m twice as old as you, you stupid dragon!”
“And I make one hundred and forty-three times your annual salary. Put the uniform on, lesser being.” Spike’s smirk only grew, and Trixie desired more than anything to wipe it off his face with a broom.
Trixie sighed and took the uniform out of his arms angrily. “Fine, but I’m doing this for me, not for you!”
“That’s real nice. Now, I’ve got some paperwork to take care of, so I’ll set you up to train with Flitter today.” A light purple mare with a bright pink bow walked up to her, smiling brightly. “She’s been here since the store opened, so there’s nopony more qualified.”
“Flitter… Isn’t she that Wonderbolt’s sister?” Trixie asked, turning to the light purple pegasus mare.
Flitter smiled as Spike walked off, likely ignoring Trixie’s question. Well, not likely; she was pretty sure he had done it on purpose. “Yep, that’s Cloud Chaser! I had to get a job to pay the rent after she left, and Spike pays me very well.”
“Oh?” Trixie raised an eyebrow. “How much does he give you?”
“Fifteen bits an hour,” Flitter winked. In an instant, Trixie’s face turned pure red, and the pegasus pony backed away with a shocked look on her face. “A-are you okay? Doesn’t he pay you a comparable wage?”
Trixie’s jaw dropped. “WHAT THE BUCKING BUCK?! HE PAYS YOU FIFTEEN BITS AN HOUR WHILE I GET HALF OF ONE?!”
“O-oh, really?” Flitter blinked, confused. “I thought they outlawed slave wages?”
“I swear to the gods above, if this is just him getting revenge on me for that whole ‘making Ponyville into slaves’ thing, then I’m going to kill him.” Trixie’s fist shook in the air.
“Oh, don’t worry, I’m sure he’s forgiven you for that! I know I have!” Flitter beamed. “Now, are you ready to begin your training?”
Trixie let out a sigh, followed by the tiniest of nods. “Fine, let’s just get this over with…”
“Yay! That’s the spirit!”
“What…” Trixie muttered. This pony was clearly insane. Or on drugs. Or perhaps both. She reminded herself to check the shelves for anything of the second variety later. She figured she’d need them by the end of the day. “Okay, whatever, just lead the way, I suppose.”
Flitter did just that, prancing her way towards the back of the store. Trixie followed her closely behind, careful not to step in any messes they passed by.
“Now, Trixie, answer this question,” Flitter said, after leading Trixie to a small supply closet in the back of the store. “What do you think is the most important asset this company has?”
An idea came to Trixie, followed by a grin. “Trixie knows better than to answer such a question with anything other than her own question. What do you think it is?”
“Customers!” Flitter shouted, a nonsensically large grin adorning her face.
“Of course it is! I was merely testing your leadership abilities. You passed… this time.”
“Customers pay our bills, put food on our tables and give us something to do eight hours a day, forty hours a week, sixty years an average lifespan. Without them, we of the food service industry have naught but empty pockets and rumbling tummies. You pick up what I’m throwing down?”
“Trixie, um, doesn’t see anything on the floor to pick up,” she noted. “Not that I’d pick up after another pony, anyways!”
“You don’t have very many friends, do you?”
“My only two friends are an insane princess who sends the town into chaos on a weekly basis, and a villain who tried to destroy time itself. Yeah, ponies are just lining up to be my friend.”
“Well, thank Celestia for worker-boss professionalism so I don’t have to get in that line. Now!” Flitter bounced once in the air. “Let’s get back on topic.”
“Very well. What is your next question?”
“Given how important customers are, what would you say should be your main focus on your first day of work?”
“The four bits I’ll be taking home after working eight hours?”
“Payday isn’t until two weeks from tomorrow. Guess again!”
Trixie shook her head and groaned. “The customer?”
“THE CUSTOMER!” Flitter once again leapt into the air from excitement. “Today, your position will be in the lobby assisting customers with anything they need! Picking up their trash, taking their trays, delivering their orders to them… They name it, you do it!”
“What if they spit in my face?”
“Apologise for the inconvenience and offer them a refund!” Flitter stood firm and answered the same way, as if it was a normal response.
“What the hay would the inconvenience be in that case?! My face being in the way of their spit?!”
“The customer is always right!”
Trixie groaned outrageously loud. So loud that the ponies in the lobby likely heard her, but she didn’t care. She gritted her teeth and replied, “Fine, okay, whatever. Can I just take someone their order now?”
“Of course not! Let’s do a practice round.” Flitter’s face lit up as if mocking Trixie’s misery. “Pretend I”m a customer.”
“Dear Celestia, do we have to perform this blasphemous charade?”
“Yes. Now, Trixie, I want to order a number one combo with medium fries and a cola. Will you please read my order back to me to make sure you got it right?”
“Fine, Trixie will play along,” Trixie said with a huff. “You wanted a number one combo with medium fries and a cola. Anything else?”
“Excuse me, ma’am, but I said I wanted a number five combo, not a number one. Will you correct that for me?”
Trixie gasped in utter shock. “Liar! You clearly stated you wanted a number one! You will cease these slanderous statements at once!”
“The customer. Is Always. Right!” Flitter poked her in the chest with each sentence.
Trixie had to resist every instinct in her body telling her to reach across the pretend counter and very literally strangle her to death. “Fine. That was a number five with medium fries and a cola. Anything else?”
“TRICK QUESTION! We have Pepsi products here.”
“Ahh!”
Trixie waltzed into the main lobby. She was confident that she would make these customers fear ever crossing her with their petty complaints. At least, she was until she saw just who her first customer was. Her eyes grew wide, but she steeled herself and made her way over to the first table she’d ever wait on. “Hi, welcome to Spike’s Salty Sandwiches. May I take your order?”
“ALRIGHT, LET’S DO THIS! I’D LIKE A NUMBER SIX WITH AN EXTRA-LARGE FRIES, NO PICKLES, EXTRA ONIONS, AND A DIET PEPSI!” the customer yelled. Not practically yelling, either. This was full-blown screaming. Trixie’s face was coated in a thick layer of this raging pony’s spit, and she shuddered in disgust. “ARE YOU OKAY, MISS? YOU LOOK DISTRAUGHT!”
Trixie had to use every fiber of her being not to yell back at him. If she did, he’d likely crush her with one of his freakishly large biceps. “Y-yes. So, um, you wanted a number six, no pickles, extra onions, with extra-large fries and a diet pepsi?”
“YEEEAAAAHHHHH, YOU TOTALLY NAILED IT! THANK YOU, MISS…” He paused for a moment, moving to read her nametag. “TWIXIE.”
“I hate my life…” Trixie nodded and took the order back to the kitchen before any further damage could shatter to her ego. “Order for Buff McBigtits over there!”
“Oh, Bulk Biceps is here?”
“You know that insane pony? He looks like he lifts weights in his sleep!”
“Congratulations, Trixie! You took an order from our most loyal customer! He spends an average of twenty three bits per day here! That’s a fair percentage of your lifetime earnings!”
Trixie sighed, and was about to offer up a retort when a pony coughed. It was rather feminine, and both Flitter and Trixie looked to see who the new pony was.
“Trixie!” Flitter shouted with glee. “Assist this customer. Assist!”
Trixie rolled her eyes and flipped around to see the model-like figure standing behind her. “Hey, aren’t you Fleur de Lis, the fashion model?”
“Yes, that is me,” she said, fixing her mane in luscious fashion. “If you have a moment, I’d like to ask if you could point me in the direction of the ladies washroom. I need to powder my nose, among other things.”
Trixie nodded and pointed toward the restroom area in the back of the lobby. “It’s right back there.”
“Thank you ever so much,” she said, before daintily walking toward her destination.
“Excellent!” Flitter said, flipping Trixie’s body around to face her. “Oh, look at you Ms. Grumpy! You just succeeded in a perfect bait and point move. That’s high level stuff, Trixie. Keep up with that and we may have to bump you up to point sixty-three bits per hour!”
“Oh, joy…” Trixie groaned and rolled her eyes again. For the next few minutes, she and Flitter went over some of the finer points of working in the service industry. She was growing used to the pegasus pony’s perpetually pleasant personality and posture.
Of course, that all came to a stop when the same pony she’d just directed towards the bathroom galloped past the pair, slamming the front door open and bolting out of the building.
“What was that?” Trixie questioned.
“That, my friend, could be nothing other than the most feared occurence in all of the food industry." Flitter's eyes narrowed as she turned toward Trixie. "The shit and ditch.”
“You mean to tell me she excreted and retreated?” Trixie asked, stunned.
“She took a poop and flew the coop!” Flitter grinned a sort of unintentionally sadistic grin that scared Trixie more than any Ursa she ever faced. Or maybe it was intentional; Flitter had become an enigma despite getting used to her.
“She anally ejaculated and evacuated?”
“Yep! Nothing good lies behind that door, and it’s up to you to clean up the carnage she left behind, Trixie!” Flitter gave her a smug smile and tossed a bottle of bleach and a plunger to her. “You’re gonna need these.”
“You can’t be serious!” Trixie shouted.
“Nonsense!” Flitter said, pushing Trixie toward the radioactive room. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life!”
“But Flitter!” Trixie said as she searched her brain cavity for anything to get out of it. When something came, she leaned in toward her. “Shouldn’t an employee of your elevated stature show a new employee such as myself how it’s done first?”
“Of course not!” Flitter said, grinning ear to ear. “If I get much closer to that restroom than I already am, Ms. Chernobyl's ass fumes might melt my hair off. And we wouldn’t want that, now would we?”
“B-but I…” Trixie stammered, trying to come with something, anything, to get out of doing this. Unfortunately, she came up blank. “Fine…”
With the determination of post-9/11 airport security, she made her way towards the hellhole of a bathroom. By the time she reached the door, she could smell it. Not since Cheese Sandwich had come to town and left all of his cheeses out in the hot sun had she smelled anything nearly this foul. Somehow, she managed to slam the door open.
Not since the 1998 Godzilla had she seen something so wretched and foul. Not since the season three finale had something so controversial plagued her senses. Not since the OJ Simpson verdict had she been so utterly devastated by what she saw. Not since she had a sleepover at Neverland Ranch with Michael Jackson had her senses been so violated. Not since she had played on the Tiger R-Zone had her eyes been so violently assaulted, perhaps even sexually. Not since her ex coltfriend approached the toilet releasing the fabled three stream had a mess so catastrophic in nature been witnessed. Not since she had come across something anti-feminist on 4chan did she feel so triggered. Not since Hurricane Katrina had she seen floodgates destroyed in this manner. Not since Hiroshima had she seen a bomb like this dropped. Not since Seventh Heaven and FamousLastWords (with MissytheAngle watching with great sorrow in the distance) started writing had she seen something so vile, so wretched and so undeservedly popular be released to the masses.
And yet, somehow, it got worse. “THERE’S A BUCKING TAMPON ON TOP OF THIS PILE OF SHIT!”