I started working part-time at a fast-food restaurant. My last post was on rejection (I assume from the title, I haven’t read it since I wrote it, and of course, have forgotten what exactly I wrote about) and rejection is still a playing theme in my present life. Mostly job-wise rejection. I have a job, sure, but it’s not the job I want. I’ve continued applying for what I hope to be more mentally stimulating jobs, but no interviews yet.

Working in a fast-food restaurant is not at all related to my college degree in international studies. Surprise!  Occasionally one of my fellow employees will ask me about college, and they’ll be surprised to learn that I have my degree. They’ll ask me what my degree is in, and they’ll inevitably ask me, “What can you do with that?” By this point I should have a stock answer that I just rattle off, but every single time, it just feels so incredibly awkward to explain my career path to people. Maybe it’s because I am not completely sure myself what I will do with my degree, what I want to do with my degree. I have some general ideas, of course, but there isn’t a particular job that I know that I want. Actually, except for those occasional awkward moments (where I kind of feel like I’m on trial), I like not knowing exactly what I’m going to be doing. Right now, the options seem limitless. I want to work abroad. I want to go on missions, assignments. I want to have some responsibility and an interesting job title. People sitting next to me on airplanes will make conversation with me and every single time I’ll have to explain my job title to them, but I’ll love it, because I’ll be proud of what I do. That’s all I want. Well, and a decent paycheck would be nice.

Working at the restaurant (I’m going to try not to give any revealing details, in case I get carried away with my complaining) is tiring. Most of the people I work with are nice, but there are a couple of people who easily ruin my day. You know the type I’m sure – they watch you, wait for you to make a mistake, and even if you did it right a hundred times, they’ll be on you in a second to scold you and lecture you. It’s so ridiculous, the situations, and the things that you get yelled at for.

Manager A will tell you to go clean something, then Manager B will yell at you for not being where they want you to be, and then Manager A will come back and ask you why you aren’t cleaning. or

Manager A will tell you to take a customer’s order, then Manager B (immediately after finishing the customer’s order) will demand to know why you aren’t preparing other orders.

It’s madness. They want you to be fast, but they want you to be accurate. One minute they want you to make the customer comfortable, and the next they’re telling you to herd the customers around like animals. Really! They tell me that the customer needs to be guided. The managers tell us to not give customers their drink cups until after they receive their food (another example of treating them like animals/children). This is because they want to keep the customer near the counter, as if the drink dispenser is so far away from the counter that the time it would take for them to get their drink and return to the counter is unacceptable. Customers frequently (almost always) demand their cups anyway, usually in a tone of voice that seems to say, “Give me my cup retard,” as if I forgot their cup. Sigh. Sometimes I try to explain the situation, why I cannot give them the cup until after they ask for it, but their attention spans are usually too short. Sometimes I wish my name badge had my degree on it. Nicholas Lemen, B.A. Ha. What a laugh. They’d ask me what my degree is in, and then probably make fun of it.

I’ve wanted to write about my job for over a week now. There’s lots to complain about. I went to college for 4 years. My parents paid thousands and thousands of dollars. And hell, I’m smarter than 99% of the population! Aren’t I? I used to be. Anyway, 4 years and thousands of dollars, just so I could work fast-food for $7.25/hour, so I could be scolded and lectured on standing still for 30 seconds or not boxing fries quickly enough.

Earlier this week,  a manager yelled at me for having my arms folded. And I’m certain that I didn’t have arms folded! I was so mad. I hadn’t eaten anything before work that day, had gone in at 7 am, and this guy was scolding at me for something as mundane as positioning my body in a way that he found unacceptable. In almost any other scenario, folding your arms is of no consequence. Perhaps you’re cold, perhaps you’re thinking, perhaps you’re just folding your arms. I don’t know. But I’m certain that I wasn’t folding my arms at all! I went to the bathroom immediately and just put my hands over my face. It felt unbelievably good just putting my hands over my eyes, and taking deep breaths. It was such a lonely feeling though. I’ve felt that feeling before. It’s impossible to get there unless I’m busy, unless I’m escaping from something. I remember doing it in high school a lot, and when I did it this week, that’s where my mind went back to. Thinking of high school didn’t quell my frustration, just complicated it. I have to be careful to avoid thinking too much about high school, uncovering all of those unpleasant feelings of powerlessness that spidered their way into my subconscious.

I try not to think when I’m there. It’s easier not to think. It’s easier just to say “I’m sorry.” I’m sorry that you wanted extra pickles and onions. I’m sorry you didn’t want pickles and onions. I’m sorry my drawer is out of ones. I’m sorry we’re out of medium cups. I’m sorry it’ll take two minutes to make a new pot of coffee. I’m sorry that I gave you regular fries when you wanted unsalted. I’m sorry you wanted fudge instead of caramel. I’m sorry I gave you a medium meal when you wanted a large (usually, when this happens, I do think, perhaps you should just stick with the medium). I’m sorry I didn’t hear half your meal because you were whispering while looking away from me and there’s two dozen different loud sounds blaring behind me. I’m sorry I don’t read lips. I’m sorry that I’m young. I’m sorry I’ve worked here for two weeks and don’t have the menu memorized. I’m sorry I’ve never eaten that particular item off the menu and so cannot tell you about it beyond what I can figure out from looking at the picture. I’m sorry that I cannot make change faster. I’m sorry that I have crappy arithmetic skills (another fabulous opportunity for fat old people to condescend) and therefore cannot immediately figure out the new change sum when you remember that you have 56 cents in coins that you want to get rid of. I’m sorry that that is in fact the price of [food item]. I’m sorry that the local tax now requires you to pay 1 cent more for a large soda. I’m sorry that our restaurant does not have the same promotions as a location in Texas. I’m sorry that you read the menu incorrectly and that the menu is confusing to you (always my fault, I should try harder to make the menu less confusing). My favorite is when they complain to me about things which obviously I have absolutely no control over, like prices or promotions. People are silly.

Oh! I almost forgot. Last week, I think, there was this hilarious scene with a lady who went through the drive-thru. She got mad, angry, because she had ordered a large breakfast meal and her hash brown was not large.  The girl working in the drive-thru, a very sweet black girl, tried to explain to her that hash browns only came in one size. I’m not sure if race was an issue in this instance, but I would bet that it was, given this lady’s attitude. Anyway, the girl working in drive-thru quickly called for back-up. One of the shift managers tried to explain the “one size fits all” hash brown situation, and the woman got even more angry. SO, they called in the big kahuna, the restaurant manager, the guy who hired me (the guy who told me a college degree was irrelevant in his business) and he told her that hash browns came in one size. She was absolutely enraged! I really don’t remember what how the story concluded. I realized I was standing there with my mouth open, just watching, so I made myself look busy, probably by wiping down the shake machine, so I missed the ending. Either she just sped off or he gave her a refund. I hope the former.

People go into the restaurant angry, thinking it’s their prerogative to take out their emotions on people they surely perceive as underlings. Many times a day, I smile and say thank you to people who bark and scowl at me, as if they find me unacceptable. I suppose I am learning lessons, or at least reviewing lessons on human behavior. Also, on being hungry and tired.

Today I worked for 8 hours without a break. What fun.