Monday, October 27, 2008

Would you like fries with that?

I realize that the job I've taken could be worse. I realize that I could be pushing fries as an aside to burger consumption. I could be smelling like fast food every night as I depart or, God forbid, spending my meager duckets on the very food I'm slinging. Nay, my job? I get to work with Gerard Butler every night. I get to watch movies...even if it is Shrek over, and over, and over, and over (I could quote it line for line and probably act it out in shadow puppet theater. I shit you not). Movie stars pass before my eyes one after another, after another, after another. I? I am P.R. for 75% of Hollywood as I sing the praises of their latest masterpiece while assuring our guests that yes, in fact you CAN get 2 popcorn, a soda, and a candy for just a 1.99 more. Why, I'm a goddamn movie pushin' prodigy.

aaaaand CUT!

Who are we kidding? My feet hurt. All. The. Time. I wake up? And my feet hurt. I got a really expensive pedicure with my sister on Saturday as a late birthday gift to her, but I could have given that woman my first born after how much better my feet felt after she was done with me. Then Sunday I was back at work and now they hurt again. I'm anxious for hours before I have to go to work because I fear that I'll screw something up or that I'm not learning everything I need to know to be in charge of these kids in a few weeks. I walk around in pain and act like everything is OK. I smile at guest after guest and try to pretend like this isn't the worst job I've ever had. I try not to think about how I once made more money than my parents and now I'm living under their roof and barely able to pay them rent. This isn't a crack on my parents, it's just the truth. They work hard and aren't paid enough. Period. I think about the work I did before and how easy it all was for me and can't help but realize that I work harder now than I ever have and it's for $10 less an hour.

I'm a week into my new McCareer. On my second day on the job I was standing there learning something with the manager and a "regular" (as I'm told) came in and during conversation said, "Are you guys hiring?" Then with a look of disgust added, "Oh, it's not for me. It's for my daughter. I make WAY too much money to ever work here." I wanted to jump over that counter and body slam her smug, self-righteous little ass right there in the Previously Viewed section. I thought "Look, Bitch, I used to, too. Shit happens. You don't KNOW me. You don't know why I'm here or what my circumstances are. Don't judge me OR my McJob." I politely smiled and handed her her movies, "Due back Sunday by midnight. Have a great day. Whore." Ok, so I didn't call her a whore, but I wanted to.

Thursday I managed to squeeze in lunch with a friend. I love her to bits and hadn't seen her in ages. We used to work together and after I got laid off she kept me abreast of all the office gossip (until they closed their doors and she got a new job). We sat eating burritos and the like as we caught up on everything. Then I noticed a couple sit behind her (facing me). They were both in bright red and black and you couldn't help but notice them what with them looking like the wonder twins. Then another guy sat down. He was kinda hot and he, too, was dressed in red and black. Then a fourth guy...red and black. I looked at their outfits closer. You gotta be f'n kidding me. What kind of kharmic mishap have I undergone to have FOUR Bally trainers sit next to me while I chow down on a burrito the size of a small child. It's a cruel cruel world.

2 comments:

Kat said...

Ok that's a cosmic hint.
The job is temporary.
I worked in a deli while I was in college. It's much worse if that's all you can do with no end in sight. You just need to get cracking on school.

Carlos said...

i just started reading "how starbucks saved my life" about an old dude taking a mcjob. he learned some insights about himself. maybe there's a silver lining here. btw i give a great foot massage...just saying