It is time for the next installment of Death of Service, the Midwestern saga. When last we met, I had suffered an assault at the hands of the vicious and judgmental window monitor at the as yet unnamed fast food restaurant, the reigning monarch of burgers let’s just say, only to leave hungry and empty handed. My next trepidacious attempt took me to a healthier state of fast food but with little improvement on the experience though I did come away with an amusing anecdote. I walk in this time, no longer trusting the anonymity of the drive thru and walk up to the counter. As this is one of those sandwich shops where you choose individually each item, there is a plain faced girl behind the ineffectual sneeze guard repeating after each option, “Anything else? Anything else? Anything else?”, in a zombie-like cadence which would make George Romero jealous. There are actually three employees visible, though it seems only zombie girl is working. There is a second ponytailed blonde girl in the back, leaning heavily on a counter writing and talking on her cellphone and a third, this one young man, with a bright Manager badge blazing gloriously from his chest. He assesses the situation, the two customer to three employee ratio and says loudly, “It’s a good thing I like you guys or you’d all be fired.”
I
complete my order, three items at a time to avoid the hypnotizing drone of the
zombie girl and suddenly from the back appears a delightfully energized young
black woman, smiling ear to ear, who completes my order at the register. My heart warms a bit as she wishes me a nice
day and as I turn to go, she turns to her coworkers and says, “I am just
forcing a smile today.”
I
haven’t actually moved yet, but apparently the air which fills the gap between
us is soundproof.
I
walk away, slightly defeated but with prize in hand. Tomorrow is another day. I shall not lose all faith in humanity, though
my trust in the fast food industry which sustained me through my youth is
faltering.
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