Happy Tuesday, Friend!
This past weekend, I had the dubious pleasure of eating lunch in a fast-food restaurant—Culver’s, to be precise. Kevin and I were going to both be going in separate directions that afternoon, but we wanted to grab a quick lunch together somewhere close to home. Culver’s was the answer. (Lest you’re shaking your finger at our fast-food decision, let me tell you that Kevin opted for a salad, and I had a grilled chicken sandwich—withCOUGHfriesCOUGHCOUGH.)
As we were sitting and eating our lunch, I noticed one of the workers was also seated in the dining area, apparently on a lunch break. My days of being employed at a fast-food restaurant came slapping me upside the head instantly! She can’t be sitting in the dining area in her uniform! She’s going to be in so much trouble!
You see, during my prestigious days behind the counter of Hardee’s in Ashland, Wisconsin, we were not to be seen sitting in the dining area (we called it the lobby) in our uniforms!! That was a crime punishable by . . by . . . I have no earthly idea. I just knew we couldn’t be seen in a seated position in the lobby. All breaks were to be taken only in the break room in the back. Hardee’s employees would never do something as slovenly as sit down. Nope, not us.
I hated that job.
I spent three summers working at Hardee’s during my college years. There wasn’t a plethora of jobs where I grew up, so I couldn’t be too picky. Sam (not his real name, which has been changed to protect the creepy) was the manager. He was a young man who, paradoxically, ran a very tight ship, had a hissy fit if there was one microscopic bit of salt on the front counter, but also was creepy. He said very inappropriate and suggestive things to us young girls who worked there. No one ever called him out on it, we just ignored him as best we could.
Our uniforms were brown with orange accents and made from the scratchiest, most uncomfortable polyester fabric known to mankind. The girls had to wear a little scarf that we tied under our hair at the back of our necks. The guys wore baseball caps. Getting the french fry grease smell out of those clothes was virtually impossible. All the Downey in Wisconsin couldn’t eliminate the smell.
I hated those uniforms.
One of the duties you never wanted to get stuck with was “lobby.” If you were “on lobby,” you just wandered the dining area, squirt bottle of cleaner in one hand and rag in the other, and cleaned up messes. Check the garbage bins and empty when necessary. Check on the bathrooms now and then. Somehow, when you were on lobby, you were forgotten by the world. You never got to take your break because you weren’t seen much.
I hated being on lobby.
But the worst, I mean worst, job ever in the entire universe was having to “close.” Oh, how I dreaded closing. Everything had to be cleaned to perfection! I would usually end up washing utensils and such in the big sinks in the back with that big squirty hose. I’d be soaked by the time we were done. And I’d do all that work, and the shift manager would invariably find something that wasn’t quite clean enough. It took hours, and I’d get home really late. (And if you know me, you know I’ve never been a night owl.)
I hated closing.
One day, my shift manager told me I needed to drive to Marengo, Wisconsin, a small town about 15 minutes away, to get something. I can’t remember what on earth I was supposed to get. Was it a key? I just remember being appalled that I had to drive there. I think I needed to get something from my creepy manager, who happened to be at the Ashland County Fair at the time. At the fairgrounds, I opened my door to get back in after getting God-knows-what, and a dog came tearing in my direction and jumped in my car! (Let me be clear, this was my parent’s car. My “car” at the time was a Schwinn bike.) I spent quite a bit of time trying to get the dog back out so I could get back to work.
I hated driving to Marengo.
It’s funny that when I think back on those days, I can come up with so many reasons why I hated it. But now, this many years removed from that time, I kind of look back at those days with a nostalgic grin. I might even go so far as to say that I have fond memories of the place!
After all, that’s where I met my very first person from New York City. There is a small college in town, and kids came from all over to attend. A few of them became my workmates. New York City might as well have been Saturn to me. I can still hear my New York workmate’s voice and accent in my head.
And where else could I get a milkshake for 2 cents? One of my perks as an employee (actually, the only perk) was that I got 50 cents off of any purchase after my shift. A chocolate milkshake at that time was 50 cents, with a 2-cent tax. You can bet I got a 2-cent milkshake every day after work. (Those were the days when I could eat everything in sight and lose weight. Dang youth.)
Why am I telling you all about my days at Hardee’s? Good question! It just occurs to me that we go through seasons of life that aren’t our favorite. Maybe there is a job we don’t love, or there’s just something that’s not ideal right now. May I just say that seasons come and seasons go. Things rarely stay the same for long.
If you’re finding yourself in a particular season that’s not your favorite right now, let me encourage you to hang in there. Maybe your uniform is scratchy, and you smell like a french fry. Maybe you get stuck on lobby duty more often than you’d prefer. Or maybe a stray dog jumps in your car and won’t get out. Or maybe you’re facing something far more difficult than any of these minor grievances. Try to find a silver lining if you can. Even a thread of a silver lining. Learn what you can from your current situation, and look forward to what’s next.
There could be a 2-cent milkshake right around the next corner.
Wishing you a wonderful week, my friend!
Written with love – – – -Patti XOXO