Run from the border!!!

burrito submitted 643 days ago

After a rather extensive interview "in three years I see myself as an Assistant Manager", I was grateful to be hired at a national fast food chain. On my first day, the kitchen was absolutely stifling hot. I was standing around a lot, unsure of exactly what to do, but not wanting to seem too stupid for fast food. My polyester uniform felt as it may have become permanently attached to my body and my new blue Pumas were already getting caked with grease. Naturally, I was working deep in the confines of the "kitchen", or hot food preparation area, as I was far too inexperienced and untrustworthy to work the register.

My boss may have been 24 or 42, but had an executive looking shirt to wear with his polyester pants and a mustache that looked soft and pet-like. Mr. Mustache said "Gwackamolee", which made me rather suspicious. He was mean to people in front of me to assert his authority and told me about his new Pontiac several times as he told me how to clean the bean pot(did not fit in the industrial dishwasher/sanitizer) and use the fryolator.(very dangerous!)

I felt terrible by the time my 6 hour shift was over and slept until it was time to go to work again. When I arrived at work on my second day, the smell was overpowering, grease and bean product blended with ground meat and the distinctive smell of those rubber mats on the floor near the dishwasher.(wear gloves and a mask if you have to pick it up to clean under it) I was incerdibly dizzy and nauseous. I thought a soda would help, but it did not. I asked to sit down several times, but was told that I would have a 30 minute(unpaid) lunch and one 10 minute break during an 8 hour shift. I was busy making the meat mixture when I nearly fainted. Mr. Mustache lectured me about what it means to have a job and be treated like an adult. I told him that I was going to throw up and he said that i could take my lunch after I checked the restrooms(yuck!) and washed the bean pots again!

In the food preparation area, I vomited. After I caught my breath, I ran outside and vomited again and again. The heat and smell were an overpowering combination. My Pumas were trashed, and the embarrassment was staggering. Mr. Mustache came outside and I thought he was going to offer to call my mother, but instead proceeded to demand that i clean it up and completely sanitize the area according to some policy! He told me that I could first get the hose and clean the sidewalk. When I began to cry, he said that if I did not do it, I no longer had a job.Unfortunately, this was before the age of cell phones, so I could not call anyone. I walked about three miles to get home and cried in the cold shower. I would not answer the phone for days and was afraid to go near that area for years. 15 years later, I still would not go back there. :mad: