A Quandry

I started working when I was 14 years old. I was the Santa and Easter bunny helper at the local mall. I did this for years. I also worked at a handful of stores in the mall for years as well. What I never did was work fast food.

Maybe the job is really, really, really difficult. Maybe it's really, really, really mentally challenging. Maybe it's really, really, really hard to look at a fucking screen to read what the customers order is. Maybe it's just that you really, really, really need to make sure you know how to read...well. Maybe it's just that you really, really, really need to have good hearing to hear the customers fucking order. Maybe it's just that you really, really, really need to give two fucking shits about your job to get the customers order right.

Maybe it's all of these, maybe it's none of them. Maybe I'll never know why the fast food joint near my house fucks up my order EVERY.FUCKING.TIME. I'd like to say that maybe I'll stop going there but that would be a lie because not matter how pissed off I get, I'm a lazy bitch and convenience wins out about 95% of the time.

Maybe I should concentrate my efforts on praying that these fucktards don't grow up to be surgeons, judges, or financial planners.