My Second Job (Learning The Hard Way)

I wrote an earlier post about my first job and what a wonderful experience it was… The cheerleaders that worked there and the fun we had. I thought all jobs were going to be as fun as my last one. This is a story of the opposite; my second job as a teen.

As I said in my last post I was fired from a cushy bus boy job at a kid’s pizza parlor filled with cute girls and a fun atmosphere for not paying for my lunch break food. I figured it would be no sweat because I could just get myself another job. Besides, I now had work experience!

So back to the mall I went, filling out any and all applications. I received a call from Wendy’s. I instantly thought, “Great I love Wendy’s, best burgers in town!” So I excitingly went to my interview all cheery and ready to go back to work, received my uniform and got ready for my first day.

My placement was an entry-level position as the grill man. Smashing down frozen beef patties, getting them ready for the assembly line. I’ve made hamburgers at home so how hard could this job be? I was ready to move up the ladder. When I got to work I found out that there are a lot of rules when it comes to grilling a hamburger for Wendy’s. The procedure was monotonous and particular to what corner got smashed down first in sequence.

There were no cute girls this time. All the employees were overweight and the manager was bitchy about everything. I quickly started to see how good I had it at my last job. This was the most boring place on the planet. I was forced in the back and the only person I could talk to was a 30 year old fry guy who hated his life. I quickly lost interest and dreaded coming to work.

About 3 weeks in it seemed that I was getting bitched at on a daily basis for having a wrinkled uniform and bad attitude towards authority. My rationalization was that I shouldn’t have to look presentable if I’m working on the grill away from customers.

One day the district manager was coming to visit our store and management was totally emotionally distraught over this. She had us scrubbing the entire place, which we were never instructed to do before. I was not sure why there was all this fuss until this self-entitled prick walked in. I remember him having and air of assholishness. He was unapproachable and condescending to everyone working there. Now I know I was a wise ass punk kid who “didn’t get it”, but they never offered an opportunity for me to get it. This was my first taste of the corporate environment. Everyone there was just trying to keep his or her job. Such a drastic difference from the family owned fun zone I previously worked at.

I remember this guy approaching me at the grill, repeatedly teaching me how to press meat onto the fryer, thinking that this was dumb. I gave him some attitude back, and finally my shift was over and I bolted out as fast as possible.

The next day I had called in to check my schedule and found that my shifts were limited to one day a week for the next two weeks as a punishment for my performance and demeanor. At this point I realized my days were numbered. I was on my way out either by my own accord or theirs.

On my next shift I was dreading going to work and went in with my usual wrinkled shirt and bad attitude and began my shift on the grill. No one talked to me the entire time I was there and I felt like I was a dead man walking. At the end of my shift, they made me take the old oil out to the hopper. This was usually a two person job because of its weight, but no one came to help me and during the procedure of dumping this disgusting mess I got scalded when the oil pan toppled over on to me while trying to lift it above my waist into the disposal. I had officially had it.

One week later, sick to my stomach about heading into work, I couldn’t see how I was going to make it through the shift. I rolled in with my uniform still covered in the spilled oil from last week. I could not have cared less. I began my isolated misery behind the grill when a friend of mine stopped in for a burger. He asked if he could speak with me and the manager reluctantly agreed. He asked how I was doing and I believe he could see the pain in my face. He asked if I wanted to go snowboarding and I explained to him I wasn’t getting off for a while and he said I could quit. This was something I had not really thought of before. Wow this was completely foreign to me. You mean I can just walk right out of here? What would my dad say? I figured through a shitty performance they would just fire me and was basically hoping they would. So I went up to the manager feeling extremely liberated and screamed, “I quit, I’m going snowboarding!” And I have to say that when I was on the chairlift that evening that this was one of the greatest days of my life!

After a few days my father had figured out I didn’t have a job anymore and asked me why. I told him I had quit due to poor working conditions and he asked, “What took you so long? Fuck Wendy’s!” I was relieved and felt for the first time I had some control over my happiness!

Have you ever been in a situation you felt you could not leave? What happened when liberation had hit you? How good did you feel?

We have three choices to all situations – Leave it, accept it or change it. Never forget it!