Wholesale abuse and rock bottom wages can turn cherubs into guttersnipes. The remainder of the service industry's renegades are simply low-rent degenerates without a cause. From an ostensibly innocent snowball fight to wanton vandalism — whether for vengeance or sport — the job never fails to inspire free thinkers.
Smoking in the drive-thru booth while taking orders, stealing useless store items out of anger, painting the walls with dipping sauce packets — those were the days. From destruction of property to the proverbial sleeping on the job, I've done my share of screwing around. Truly, it feels great to make a decent living and do the right thing. Unfortunately, corporate makes it hard to care while customers erode our sanity.
I first came to appreciate snow in a Jack in the Box parking lot on Valentine's Day. It was 3 a.m. and Hell had frozen over. The shift leader and I thought it fitting to try to deface and damage corporate property with snowballs. I had been off the clock since midnight, so I put my leisure to good use. Using my shoe, I carved poetic threats and obscenities for the customers' reading pleasure in the snowed over parking lot. I then erected a Siegfried Line of snow at the entrance to the drive-thru lane and reinvented the snow angel.
I flung myself onto the snow in the manner of a bludgeoned corpse, creating the impression of a dead body. Strawberry soda from the fountain finally served a purpose--as a pool of Hollywood blood.
Why stay at work three hours past quitting time? I was waiting on my ride. The buses stopped running at 11 p.m. and I desperately needed to keep the meter running for an additional hour. The shift leaders always gave me a ride when they got off in the morning.
A write-up dated March 6, 2004 reprimanded me for staying on the premises after my shift had ended. I clocked back in that night to cover drive-thru for the night manager, who became ill after working. While being interviewed for this job, I told the general manager I had plans to get a car. As she scheduled me for fewer than 20 hours every week, she was pissed because I hadn't made good on that claim.
In the end, I was happy to afford bus fare. All my ambition centered on getting a decent job and an actual meal. I scammed my way out of paying checks at restaurants and stole provisions such as paper towels and trash bags from my former college. Desperation breeds loathing, just like the assistant manager's constant verbal abuse. Not everyone brings their work home, but we carry our animosity around like a tumor.
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