When I began working in the fast food industry, I didn't know what to expect...
After all, I'd come straight from a cushy work-study...where the most that was expected of me was to run the mail and fix myself hot coffee whilst lingering over a pile of documents to archive.
I literally had it
made.
I would get bothered when I was forced to get up from my comfy nook to answer the office phone on the opposite side of the room.
I would use informal lingo with my colleagues, and even my boss--hearing intimate details on everyone's personal lives, their opinions on their superiors, and all while being very leisurely.
I must say I loved my job, and when it came to an end I was somewhat devastated. I had grown accustomed to what I needed to do, I knew my limits, and it was an all-around comfortable situation for me. The very idea of being thrown into the seemingly limitless job market again scared the hell out of me.
But, as expected, I needed an income.
I applied everywhere under the sun...and to my extreme annoyance--being as I consider myself a very qualified person--a month passed with absolutely no call backs. I was livid. They tell you
not to take it personally when your application isn't looked at in detail, but I sure as hell took it as personally as I could.
I even had my graphic-designer boyfriend create a special template for my resume.
I couldn't understand what was not to love about me.
...I know that sounds extreme egocentric, but I couldn't help but wonder why the more important places I applied weren't taking me seriously.
I chalked it down to my relatively young age and relatively green experience.
Various people began to hint to me that perhaps applying at a more...run-of-the-mill...place would give me a better opportunity to find work. I was totally annoyed by this idea, but decided to accept it nonetheless--after all, bills were adding up, and I still had yet to find a stable means of income.
That's when I decided to tuck away the resume, and turn to filling out applications anywhere I could.
This was my first encounter with applying at a fast food restaurant.
I found the application online, and managed to fill it out over a bowl of cereal one morning while still in my pajamas. I was feeling very depressed, and the idea that I was about to sell my artistic, history-loving, intellectual soul for the prospect of easy cash was a dismal thought.
A week or two went by, and I was still as disoriented as ever.
That's when I got the call.
It was a very professional-sounding man, who said he wanted to interview me for a position at this fast food place.
"No one else has called me back..." I said to myself with a sigh, as he shuffled through papers to find an appropriate time for the interview. "I might as well. Fuck it."
The process was somewhat quick, and occurred over the span of a week.
I was interviewed, hired, and trained.
I acted impressed when the head manager (and guy who interviewed me) told me I was going to be the
first trainee to receive a shirt and name tag.
For someone whose never had much experience working in crowded areas, or being forced to do several things in a concentrated time span, the first few days were extremely hectic.
I felt like I was thrown in the deep end of the pool, having never taken a single swimming lesson in my life.
I picked up quickly before long, and even managed to learn the likes and dislikes of familiar customers.
I realized there was a lot more into the job than I had initially thought--being as I was always the served and never the server.
I also realized that there was a great deal of odd racial tension now that I was a part of a team that was predominantly black. I had never been one to notice or care about another person's race, but I suddenly found myself being looked at funny because I was literally pointed out as the token "white girl".
However, this turned out to work in my favor, as you will see.
I find myself embraced more than dismissed for my simple honesty in situations of discomfort...
Some days I think the nine hour shifts on my feet, racing around to get this or that, taking orders, shoving-out orders, taking orders, are going to kill me.
Some days I think this is one of the best things that's ever happened to me.
My manager and I were discussing Britney Spears as a part of a once-again early shift routine. 
