WELCOME TO HELL. WOULD YOU LIKE FRIES WITH THAT?
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Work sucked. Justin didn’t want to go. Someday he would be a doctor, but it would take a lot of work, and a lot of school. School cost money, and he didn’t have any. While he searched for a university that would accept him, he was forced to do a couple of years at the local community college, which thanks to the lottery scholarship, he could afford. But he still had to pay for books and supplies, rent and gas, and he had to eat. So he had to go to work, and if a couple of years of going to school all day and flipping burgers all night was the price he had to pay to someday be respected and financially independent, than it was a price he was willing to pay.
But he hated Johnny’s Burger Palace. He hated the hours and the demeaning job. He hated the minimum wage paychecks that were so far from worth it. He hated going home every night smelling like French fries and burger grease. He hated his boss, who thought that working in this crappy little fast food joint that would never become a chain, let alone become the next McDonald’s, was the most important thing on the planet. He hated his stupid red and orange uniform and the fact that if he so much as grew a mustache, he’d be written up.
Two years, he’d tell himself. Two years and then I’ll be off in medical school, living off grants and student loans, free from this shitty burger joint.