I really have to stop hanging out with Joel. He’s a nice guy and all but he gets into far too many confrontations. I’m too laidback to be involved in so much conflict. This afternoon we made the shameful, hungover journey down to McDonalds. Other than a young family seated out the front, the place was completely empty. We walked directly to the counter with predetermined orders at hand. The girl working behind the register looked about thirteen years old; I don’t know what kind of loopholes the restaurant chain had found but their employment criteria seemed a little loose. The young employee was in the middle of a phone conversation when we arrived. It wasn’t until Joel interrupted that she even became aware of our presence. She put her hand up to my friend’s intrusion and stared scornfully up at us. “Men are such pigs,” she continued to the absent associate; “they’re all fucking liars.” Eventually she brought the conversation to a close. “Sorry hun, some people have just come in. I have to go.” She turned her attention to us. “Can I help you?” she asked, with unrestrained attitude.
“Don’t look at me as if you’re important,” Joel spat. “You work on the weekend for three dollars an hour. You’re my slave right here – you can help me by learning your fucking position in this world.”
I stepped in to clam Joel down and she eventually took our order. I have a sneaking suspicion that she gave a little spit of her own – right in our burgers.
“Don’t look at me as if you’re important,” Joel spat. “You work on the weekend for three dollars an hour. You’re my slave right here – you can help me by learning your fucking position in this world.”
I stepped in to clam Joel down and she eventually took our order. I have a sneaking suspicion that she gave a little spit of her own – right in our burgers.