Today was the release of the award winning essay, "The Sonic Diaries." I realize that this blog is about as close to published as my essay will ever get, so I decided to throw this out here.
Let me know what you think.
¶1 BEEEEEEP BEEEEEEP BEEEEEEP “Someone better answer that damn switchboard!” yelled my boss, “Or I’m gonna beat each and every one of you!” How pleasant. How delightful. What more can you want? To be audibly assaulted by the incessant beeping of an inanimate electronic object then berated by an overbearing boss; it really doesn't get any better.
¶2 Sadly, that was my life. For the three summer months that are supposed to be the glory days of a teenager, I lived the underappreciated life of a fast food worker. I had heard all the stories about teenage jobs. Working sounded like a pretty good time, one where the drudgeries of food service were tempered by hilarious coworkers, free French fries, and a bi-weekly paycheck. Let me tell you; it wasn’t.
¶3 After searching around the city I found an opening at Sonic Drive-Ins, a fast food chain. My foot jittered with anticipation above the pedal of my white mini van as I drove across town to pick up my application. I parked the car and gleefully walked up to the mailbox that read “Application Forms.” I opened up the rusty metal box and reached in to pick up a form. Expecting the crisp feel of an 8 ½ by 11’ piece of paper, I was surprised to feel something wet and mushy. I pulled out my hand, only to find it covered in ketchup and mustard.
¶4 I looked into this esteemed mailbox and saw a cheeseburger smashed onto the applications. Apparently, someone had decided that the best way to get hired was to turn in a cheeseburger instead of the traditional paper application. Maybe they thought a sample of their work would impress the boss, maybe they just wanted to show their middle finger to the system. Either way, I did not appreciate their addition to the applications. I picked out the cleanest application I could find and filled it out. My first step to fast food success was complete.
¶5 A few weeks later I received a call to come in for an interview. I dressed up in black slacks and a nice white polo to impress my potential boss. Walking into the “restaurant” I got some weird looks. Apparently, looking respectable is not something that's common in a place like Sonic.
¶6 The interview went smoothly and soon enough I had a job. The next day was training. Training new employees at Sonic consists of watching a five minute sanitation video and going straight to work. After watching employees of various ethnicities wipe animated germs off a counter, my job began. The manager decided to start me off taking orders.
¶7 When a customer drives up to Sonic, they press a button at their eating station and a persistent beeper goes off inside the store. To make the aggravating noise stop, an employee must answer the switchboard and take the customer’s order. The switchboard is a medium sized black podium with over 200 buttons. Each button corresponds with a different food item, ranging from the “Jalapeño Super Sonic Cheeseburger” to the “Java Mocha Chiller Cream Delight.” The instructions given were simple: “When someone says what they want, press the button of the food.” It sounded easy enough.
¶8 I was waiting patiently when it happened. BEEEEEEP BEEEEEEP BEEEEEEP rang from the speaker; a customer was ready to order. I excitedly pressed the black button to start taking the order when I realized I had no idea what to say. Here I was, on the line with a good paying customer, and I was speechless. After a glare from my manager I said, “Hi. This is Sonic. What do you want help ordering?” After a brief pause, what sounded like a young male, age 27, red hair, 180 lbs, single, started reeling off a list of food items he wanted. He spent a good 3 minutes barking off all the burgers, fries, and drinks he wanted, not to mention the excessive condiments.
¶9 This man was talking as fast as a cheetah and felt no need to pause at all. I was supposed to be taking his order by pressing buttons, but that didn’t happen. During these two minutes I was in panic mode, and the orders rolled right by. All that registered was a “small fry” and a “did you get that?” at the very end. Being polite (and still in panic mode), I said “Yes, we will have that out to you shortly.” I quickly cut off the connection. The screen in front of me was supposed to have his order, but it was blank. I decided I needed a bathroom break, and I walked away with a red face.
¶10 10 minutes later the switchboard rang again, BEEEEEEP BEEEEEEP BEEEEEEP. It was the same man from before. He asked, “Is my food ready yet? I’ve been waiting for 20 minutes!” I didn’t know what to say, so I hung up on him without saying a word. I thought the man would just leave, but then… BEEEEEEP BEEEEEEP BEEEEEEP. This time, I didn’t even answer. I let it ring. I went back to the bathroom.
¶11 A few minutes later I went back to the front area and saw my boss on the switchboard with the man from before. My boss said “What do you mean I already took your order?!” The man replied “I gave you my order and you said it would be right out! Screw it, I’m leaving. Keep your nasty food!”
¶12 After giving me a stern lecture and threatening to fire me, my boss he decided to move me over to the drive-thru window. When working at drive-thru, you need to make drinks for the customers and hand food out the window, along with collecting their payments. They told me it was impossible to mess this part up.
¶13 Now, before I go any further, I must fill you in on a crucial aspect of the Sonic Drive-In restaurant: the floors. When a fast food chef (if you can call them chefs) makes a greasy burger, he or she is under a two minutes time constraint. When asked to make a burger that quickly, the chef does not care where the excess grease goes. The excess grease goes to the floor. The floor becomes slippery.
¶14 I was saying; I was now working at drive-thru. A customer had ordered a strawberry cream slush, cheese tots, and a croisSonictm sandwich. The food was all cooked, bagged up, and ready to be handed out. I took the bag, opened the window, and started to hand the bag to the lady in the car. The customer decided she didn’t need to pull up close to the building, so I had to lean way out of the window to give her the food. As the lady opened her hand to accept the food, my feet started to slip on the greasy floor. I felt my body tipping forward, and my feet lost all traction they had on the poorly cleaned floor.
¶15 As I slid forward, the lady in the car looked at me expectantly, not realizing I was about to fall out the window. Doing what any sane person would do, I quickly threw the food and drink at the lady in the car. I saved myself from going out the window, and gave the customer a sticky surprise at the same time. The lid on the cream slush wasn’t snapped on tightly, and it came off during the air travel. I looked at the lady, who now had a blended mix of ice cream and strawberries all over her blouse. “Are you serious?!” she yelled, “What the hell is wrong with you!?” I quickly shut the window and turned away. The lady drove off without paying; I didn’t care.
¶16 After my first day in the service industry, I was left wondering; is the crappy pay really worth all this? Getting ridiculed, hated on, and pissed off; why take it? I was going to quit right then and there. I wanted to be done with this horrifying place; forever. I was about to make a scene when I realized that I want a future. College doesn’t pay for itself, and no way in hell was I going to end up in a place like this for the rest of my life. And come on, where else do you get paid to throw food out a window?
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