Local Man Home For Holiday Doing Bare Minimum To Maintain His Life


Kenmore, NY—Andrew Loafer, a twenty-seven year old software engineer at Tucker Energy in Tulsa, Oklahoma returned to Western New York for the Thanksgiving holiday this past week. In catching up conversations it became apparent to his parents, grandparents and even his two younger sisters that he really isn’t doing much of anything with his life besides maintaining the bare essentials—eating, sleeping, going to work and getting a little action from one of the cashiers at Dollar General near his apartment in Tulsa.

First, his mom asked how work was going and he responded with the monosyllabic—”Fine.”  His dad followed up by asking if he was working on any interesting projects, if he might be getting a promotion or if he was making friends with co-workers? Again, Loafer’s replies were terse, “No. Probably not. Not really” He also said, “I went to the bar a couple of times with the guys from work, but all they want to talk about is this project, that program or this business, that CEO. It’s all so boring. The two days I go into the office everybody stresses about systems going down and how it cost the company money and all this other BS. Like I said—boring. They all stay late fixing things, but I’m out of there right at 5. They call me, ‘QQ,’ the quiet quitter, whatever that means.”

Loafer went on to tell his family there was great news on the “World of Warcraft,” front. That his character in the multiplayer online game, Endu—The Macedonian Life Stopper, has reached a level 52. And, on a routine basis he takes out the entire seventh grade class at the Roman Gabriel Middle School in Pasadena, California. The only down side according to Loafer is many times after he’s pounded a “Red Bull,” or two and is totally jacked, most of the kids have to go to bed because they have school in the morning. Except for this kid named Rocco, who goes by the handle Messer Dooom. His dad left recently and his mom is overcompensating by letting Rocco game late into the night. 

Loafer’s grandfather, Archie, asked about the Dollar General, cashier, wondering if she was working her way through school or something. The younger Loafer said he wasn’t sure but didn’t think so because she’s like forty. His sisters giggled and both his parents and grandparents had shocked looks on their faces when he announced her age. He innocently explained, “I go into that store a lot and Bonnie, the cashier, and I got to talking a bit and she asked if had any idea how to reset the password on her Hulu account. I took care of that and a couple of other things, like removing some viruses from her laptop and setting up her online banking account. And, you know, we chat about the price of Cheerios, have some microwave pizza rolls, and one thing leads to another. She says I’m not only her first college boy, but the first dude she’s been with that didn’t smoke—and that fresh breath is so weird.”

After her second Mogen David wine, Loafer’s grandma Marian, told grandson in not the gentlest of terms to . . . “get his shit together and sleep with women his own goddamn age.” Judging from the confused look on his face, Loafer didn’t know what the hell she was talking about.