Working in Fast Food Hell!
She was an interesting character to say the least. I encountered her while doing hard time in the food service industry at a small, local place known only as: Chick-Fil-A. One may have heard of it. The time I spent working in this establishment was a different one, ushering in a different me. A me that I would not soon like to revisit delivered the lord's poultry provisions to the masses of soccer moms and families of all shapes and sizes. It was the south after all.
The lord's favorite greasy spoon embraced a child, about the width of a toothpick, possessing the social skills of a wet napkin and regurgitated a Matchstick sized, slightly older child with the social skills of a dry napkin, jaded to the whimsical, Narnia like world of food service before his prime. That toothpick sized child was yours truly.
When I began what I would soon believe to be my sentence, I entered with a promising smile. Beyond my crooked glasses there were the innocent eyes of a hopeful child, my how hopeful I was. This would be my first job and I was nervous, but at the time being in a constant state of unease was fairly normal for me. I was nervous, sure, but the excitement of a new experience was enough to calm even the jitteriest of the jittery, at least for a little while. I felt as if I was entering the adult world. I had just climbed through the wardrobe to Narnia! I would soon find however that the world I had stepped into was more a kin to the Mordor sect of Middle Earth.
The first month or so of my job went swimmingly as I learned the ropes and got to know my co-workers as well as I could using what little points I had in my conversation satchel. I already felt more responsible. Nothing could ruin this perfectly acceptable first job, or at least that's what I thought.
I entered through the glass double doors. Like battle scars, the stains on my silky striped shirt and ironed slacks made me feel like true warrior ready to charge head on into my next battle, but something was amiss. Something was different. My spider sense was tingling and my guard was up and then I gazed upon the true terror that would soon transform my fourteen to fifteen year old life into a fresh living hell. Ursula the Sea Witch herself, my new manager.
My first day with Ursula began with a brisk fall, resulting in a hard crash onto the tile floor below. Unable to catch myself, I simply had to take the blow. My corporate mandated non-stick kitchen shoes, made to protect my spindly teenage body from slipping on porcelain tile were apparently not enough to save me from that infernal rug that seemed to have a grudge against all who worked part time at Chick-Fil-A. I was not the first to fall due to this rug and I would certainly not be the last, but I couldn't help but feel that Ursula had pulled the rug out from under me, like how she pulled the rug out from under my good time.
My time with Ursula continued as she continued to grow an intense hatred for me. From the moment I first met eyes with her, I knew she didn't like me much, but I was not ready for the torture that would follow. Whenever I would work a shift with Ursula, I always seemed to get stuck with the worst of jobs.
On Wednesdays, the busiest days for us, I would get put on trash duty. When this small establishment was as busy as a beehive, to say the least, Chick-Fil-A would become a private landfill. The new stains on my striped shirt now reminded me of the undefinable fluid stains that would leak from those trash bags, nearly reaching their maximum capacity.
On most other days I would usually be stuck out in the blistering heat or the pouring rain, dealing with the public. The best thing that came out of that was the treasure trove of stories I built over time. Eventually, Ursula's petty and demeaning comments would simply roll of my back as I clocked out for good. I had served my time and was ready to take a break from eating the food for quite a while.
It was not until I returned as a customer, months after my final day, that I would feel Sauron's gaze piercing my soul. It was Ursula, I knew, but I didn't see her, I only felt her dark presence.
"Is that the manager that hated you?" My sister asked me in a hushed tone. Low and behold, behind the counter was Ursula, glaring at me with what one would describe as the "stink eye".
I simply nodded to my sister. We sat down a little further into the restaurant. There was one thing I could tell her about Ursula at that moment after taking a sip of my icy cold beverage.
"She was an interesting character to say the least."
