Yesterday, my insane Arby’s manager spent an hour complaining to me about how he doesn’t have time to do everything he has to do: train me further, supervise me, write an evaluation about me. Rather than doing any of these things or running the restaurant, he ranted and raved while I made roast beef sandwich after roast beef sandwich. By the time it got to my twenty minute lunchbreak I was nearly in tears.
I went to the nearby RiteAid to pick out a candy bar (actually six candy bars). Standing in front of all the candy was a child looking at all the butterfingers and lollipops with such longing. His mother angrily refused him any candy. Meanwhile, I loaded my basket with chocolate bar after chocolate bar. Kit Kats, Hershey bars, Baby Ruths, Junion Mints, Mars bars. Walking past the little boy who was in tears I laughed at him. I may work for a miserable man, but at least I’ve earned this as an adult: the right to get as much candy as I want!Yours and forever,
Iris Myandowski (The hand walking queer)
