PRIBEBOOK: e WEGS‘Once upon a time, I thought I was free. Behold the high life: One studio apartment, with bed and kitchen table. One thirteen-inch color television, with basic cable. One Tellus Odyssey? video game system (used). One coffee maker, but never enough money for coffee. Four thin walls. Addonanext-doorneighbor with loud stereo and bad ‘music. Throw in an upstairs neighbor with a loud girlfriend and louder domestic disputes. Park a rusting junker com- rmuter car across the street. That was the sum total of my world. After dropping out of college, and living in three states, the addresses changed, but the fundamental ingredi- ents remained the same — variations on a theme. How could I afford such luxury? I had a career. In fact, Thad three: Janitor, Retail Clerk, and finally, my latest and lowliest: Burger Czar. As aras the start of my story goes, you can pretty much start it anywhere. Pickaday, any day. They ere all the same. For the sake of argument, start out at OTolley’s, my employer d'jour. Let me set the stage for you. My morning litany went like this. An alarm clock. Three snooze alarms. Beer cans across the floor from the night before. Shower. Underwear. Ramen. Soda. Television. Ironing. Dressing. Leaving. Same, Thing. Every. Morning. That's what my life was like for five years. Getting dressed was the worst part — that, and having to make ramen in the coffee maker. O'Tolley’s had the humiliation Falling Down ints dress code standardized, refined toa science. Paperhat. Black tennis shoes. Dress shirt and slacks meticulously ironed every day —no doubt an attempt to make us look formal, despite the stench of grease and meat that always stuck to our clothes. And then there was the name tag “Hello, My Name Is Stooge.” On a bad day, P'd wear my name tag upside-down, or change my name with a label maker, making me to be about as rebellious as the ten thousand other fast-food employees who were doing the exact same damn thing. This ritual was followed by a twenty-minute com- ‘mute, since walking was out of the question. Ah, and then the morning shift would begin. A glorious time when we'd get to take shit from people who could actually afford roeat fast food every morning. People who were better off than we were. I couldn't afford to do that, and I worked there, which was sick, but carefully planned by someone, some where. Employee discounts were the fastest way to burn through your paycheck buying food you didn’t even want to serve to other people. You've been to O'Tolley’s, right? You know the place. Bright yellow and green paint, along with happy cartoon characters molded out of plastic. Maybe you even know the job. Asa person in a paper hat, an O'Tolley’s employee is, legitimately qualified toreceive attitude, abuse, impatience, and arrogance from anyone who walks in the door. People rushing to and from work know it’s the one place they can 2 Bone Gnawers