My first job was at a little coffee and donut shop called Mr. Freshie in my home town of Rushville, Indiana. I started working there when I was 15. My cousin, Julie, had decided to quit working there, and she called to see if I wanted the job. It was pretty fun... my duties were waiting on customers, keeping the coffee brewed, washing dishes, and general clean-up. After my initial training, I worked weekends, and I ran the place by myself 2-3 nights per week. Sometimes I would ice donuts if we ran out, and when I was bored I liked to fill donut holes with filling. Yummy! I did a commercial for them on the local radio station for my radio class. I remember saying "Come down to Mr. Freshie to hear all the latest gossip." I made $3 an hour, and I got meager tips. I mean, how much tip is someone going to leave if their bill is 85 cents? I was lucky to get a dime, and quarters were like gold.
The shop was rather small and was always full of people on the weekends. There was a constant cloud of cigarette smoke hanging in the air. I used to joke that we sold "smoked donuts". The donuts were actually really good. A couple of the popular items were nutsticks and flat cinnamon rolls with caramel icing.
Like any small town coffee shop, we had our regular customers, and man, were they ever characters. Here are some of the people I remember most. I'm using first names only, but if you're from Rushville, you'll probably know who I'm talking about.
Coke
There was a gas station next to Mr. Freshie, and Coke was an old man with a white beard who lived in a car behind that gas station. When I went out back to take out the trash or get supplies from the shed, I could see his TV antenna sticking up over the fence. He rode a bike around town. I guess he either didn't have a license or his "house" wasn't drivable. He was quite the entrepreneur. In his mind, he owned a fleet of helicopters and who knows what else. He would sit in the donut shop and tell tall tales of his adventures. My step-dad recently told me that he was in there one day when I was working (this was way before he was my step-dad) and Coke was talking about running off to Hawaii and taking me with him. You could never take him seriously...
Merriam
Almost every night you could count on Merriam to come in, and she would stay until closing. I don't think she lived in Rushville, so she would drive from out of town just to hang out in the donut shop. She was quite a paradox. The story was that she had not taken a bath since her husband died many years before. I believe that was true. The stench that came from her would knock you over. She had holes in her shoes, no socks, always wore the same clothes, and her hair, which was long and grey, was in a gigantic tangled mess on the side of her head. Really, it looked like a rat's nest. I don't think any amount of combing would have gotten through it. She was very intelligent though, and I enjoyed talking to her. I learned to block out the smell. The ironic thing about her was that as I did my nightly cleaning, she would point out the spots I missed on the counter or floor, even the tiniest little crumb. She would move the gumball machine so that I could sweep and mop behind it, and she would straighten the doormat if I laid it down even the least bit crooked. She would watch me lock the doors before she left. I never could understand why she was so picky about that stuff but refused to clean herself up.
Phyllis
Phyllis stopped in every now and then. She drove a huge gold car. I'm not sure if she lived in it or just liked to sit in it. I would frequently see her around town just sitting in her car. She was heavy set, had horn rimmed glasses that made her eyes look huge, wore lots of blue eye shadow, and had brassy hair (a wig) that was in a similar style to a beehive. She seemed a little off her rocker too. One night friends and I saw her at Village Pantry, and she said she was hiding in her car because "that thing keeps following me" and pointed to the moon. Oooookay.
Robin
This girl was a trip. She was young and rather attractive (aside from the smeared lipstick), but she had fried her brain on drugs. She would come in on Saturday or Sunday and order a donut and milk for herself, and also a donut and milk for her imaginary friend. She would set the extra donut and milk across from her in a booth and proceed to have a conversation with the invisible person. When she was done, she would throw it all away. I always had the stereo on while I was working, and one day while she was there, the song "She Talks To Angels" by The Black Crowes came on (how appropriate). Robin jumped up and said "I love this song!". She came around behind the counter and cranked up the volume on the stereo. The other customers looked around to see what was going on, and I just shrugged. Robin began dancing around the shop, her broomstick skirt flowing around her as she twirled. When the song was over she sat back down, and I turned down the volume. One of the regulars came up after she left and said "That was a little odd, huh?". I heard later that she was killed by a semi while walking down the highway. What a tragic end for her.
Roy
Every other Sunday, some mentally handicapped people were released from their institution (a house on Main Street), and they headed down to Kroger and Mr. Freshie. Roy always wore an old brown suit that appeared to be from the 60's or 70's. I couldn't quite understand most of what he said. Thankfully, he always ordered the same thing. When I gave him his change, he would tell me to hold out my hand. He would take a penny (yes, one penny) and push it into my palm for a full 30 seconds to a minute while he told me not to spend it all in once place. Um, yeah, I'll be sure not to do that.
I eventually quit working at the donut shop and went to McDonald's because they paid a dollar more an hour. McD's wasn't half as entertaining. Unfortunately, Mr. Freshie is closed now. It's up for sale along with the recipe for the donuts. Maybe someone will reopen it someday...and whole new set of characters will flock to it.
