By Jacob Behrens
Working is easily one of the most boring things to do, right? Everybody can agree on that. Especially working with food, that's a job really reserved for the dregs of society. Oh, and high schoolers, of course.
If you think about it, it's kind of funny being a high schooler working in fast food. Because sure, a majority of the people you work with are gonna be around your age, and a majority of them are really gonna not care how much you actually do so long as the store doesn't close. But every job's got that one guy, the forty-something-year-old manager who takes things super seriously even though he doesn't have any personal stake in the franchise. I mean, come on. You're working with a bunch of kids! Cooking food! Nobody cares!
For instance, back when I was toiling away behind the grills of Penn Station, I had a guy like that. Let's call him Clark. Now, Clark was probably a pretty normal dude outside of work. Sometimes he talked about how he'd go to the club or listen to jazz, just normal stuff you'd expect a fossil like him to do. But when he was on the clock he transformed into Penn Station's very own Superman!
And trust me, I'm not exaggerating one bit. This guy would step into conversations like he was stepping in front of bullets to tell people to get "on task" and "do our jobs." It's a job at a fast food franchise in high school, dude, who does that to actually work? Nobody! And if this guy was Superman, I was definitely his Lex Luthor because of this one night I worked with him.
So, like six months after I got the job, I was working a late shift with my good buddy Clark and another one of the high schoolers, I'll call him Marty. Marty had actually somehow gotten a managerial position, so Clark couldn't boss him around. That meant that I was the only one who felt the wrath of Superman, so needless to say the night was going great. And since it was slow, I was getting it extra.
I mean it was ridiculous! Every five minutes Clark would run around the store like a bloodhound trying to find something for me to do! "Wash all these dishes, clean the stations on the line, sweep the rugs," it just went on and on! I was actually doing the work I was expected to do when I got hired, it was terrible! But I did all the stuff I was asked. The paycheck would be worth it, probably. But I still let my mind wander as I was doing it.
Washing the dishes? Wishing that I could go home. Cleaning the stations? Considering the consequences of quitting right then and there. Sweeping the rugs? Swearing that I would get back at Clark. I wasn't sure how I'd go about that, though. So I was stuck doing as I was told until an opportunity arose.
Clark, being in the position he was, smoked. I would too if I had to deal with a bunch of little rats who didn't want to work all day. So he went out our back door to go on a smoke break. It was just me and Marty in the store, alone. So I said, "Man, Clark's been on my ass all night!" because he had, I was the only one who he could get away with bossing around. And Marty said, "Yeah." Thanks, Marty, appreciate the solidarity! Awkward silence aside, I cracked a joke - "Hey, imagine if I locked the door before he came back in."
To my surprise, Marty's face lit up. Again with that great solidarity. Immediately he said, "Dude, that'd be so funny, you should do it!" Of course, I'm not one to go against my managers, it'd be against what I signed up for. So I walked over to the back door, all casually, and turned the lock.
Around ten minutes go by, I've kinda moved on from locking the door, going back to just working through the laundry list of stuff Clark had given to me to do. But then it finally happened - the back door started rattling. And I don't mean like a little bit, like "Hey, I think it's stuck" rattling, I mean like "Let me in now, or else!!!" rattling.
Marty's laughing the hardest I've ever heard him laugh, even I'm giggling a little bit. But then I remember that I've got to let him in. I stop laughing real fast when I remember that and begin walking to the door. It felt like I was walking to the electric chair to be put to death. So after my walk up the Green Mile, I unlocked the door to unleash the beast. I don't remember the chewing out I got, but I remember that the next morning my boss told me he never wanted to work with me again, so.
what? is this the end?!