The hardest fucking job

Minimum wage is a joke. They ain’t lying when they say its minimum “How do you tell this Mexican to sweep the floor. What is sweep in Spanish?” Cursed the guy making the sandwiches at Wendys. I tried to remember my college Spanish and then remembered I failed that class. The only word I remember is “maricon” which is Spanish for homosexual. My teacher pointed to me in class one day and told me I should remember that word.

The line at Wendys was frustrating because some fat bastard was holding it up. He wanted his sandwich rewrapped. The Wendys guy looked like he was about to pass out from heat exhaustion. He was dripping sweat everywhere. I felt sorry for him. He tried to give the sandwich for free to the fat bastard but the guy refused. He said just because he was fat didn’t mean he wanted to eat two double bacon cheeseburgers. The Wendys guy said he would just throw it in the trash. The fat bastard screamed that he should give it to somebody that needed it. He looked at me; he demanded the guy give me the sandwich. I was like what the fuck. I then remember my tennis shoes that I had ducktaped because they were falling apart. My psychiatrist made fun of them. She said I should care more about my presentation. I was in therapy so the last thing I was trying to do was impress that bitch. Anyways, I told the fat bastard and Wendys guy I didn’t want the sandwich. I actually did want the sandwich. The Wendys guy threw the sandwich in the trash.

As I counted the change in my pocket, I knew I had enough for two 99 cent cheeseburgers. Damn I should’ve taken the sandwich. I thought back when I was in high school I worked at Wendys in downtown San Antonio. It was the hardest job I ever had in my life. I was sure picking cotton would’ve been easier. I only lasted three hours. It wasn’t worth it. It wasn’t enough that those people don’t get paid that much but they have to put up with so much attitude. It’s like there’s some sick fascination in America to kick people when they are down.

It was my turn to order from the Wendys guy. He looked a mess. He wrapped my burger as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. I tried to ignore it. For real, I don’t care if they spit in my food as long as I don’t see it or it isn’t crunchy.