Not a rant, but a reflection on my first shift at McDonald’s.

I am typing this largely with my left hand. More on that later. Props if you read the whole thing.

  • burgers have not been flipped at McDonald’s for decades
  • instead they either fester in vats or turn flaccid in 90-second beef cookers

It was my job to attend to fries. Fries-people have four main jobs:

  • maintain correct levels of frozen fries in dispenser machine
  • place baskets of fries into oil that smells remarkably similar to squished cockroaches, gas leaks and what one craves during a hangover
  • attend to cooking baskets that need shaking every so often
  • dispense fries from finished baskets into loading area, salt fries, throw fries up against wall with scoop to mix salt - making sure not to mix old fries with new - and scoop fries into small, medium and large bags/boxes (actually a far more difficult task than it sounds)

As it was a dinner shift on a Friday night, there would be lulls and then all of a sudden a gigantic family (in every sense of the word) would blitz through the drive-thru and demand about seven or eight small fries (usually due to Happy Meals).

  • no shoes will save you from ice-skating across the floor of the kitchen on a regular basis

During the lulls I would make sure I had three small, three medium and three large fries sitting in the rack.

  • the small fries like to fall through the front of the rack and spill everywhere
  • this is always worse when someone grabs fries from the end of the rack and knocks over at least one of your finished products

Portion sizes are a nightmare. I had one supervisor tell me I needed more, and the next minute I’d have a manager mention the incredible losses we’d made due to overfilling of fries containers.

  • every now and again when someone actually ordered at the front counter, the entire kitchen would start yelling at each other in code
  • this is the cue to make the freshest food you possibly can
  • if you don’t then the 1-in-bajillion-chance-it’s-the-secret-customer-here-to-criticise-your-very-existence will throw a shitty and everyone will cry or something
  • so kids, drive-thru is a load of bullshit if you want the freshest of the fresh
Came home and made the most gi-fucking-gantic sandwich consisting of bread roll, butter and about twenty kilograms of mesculin salad.
  • you will be covered in salt and oil
  • you will never have to shine your shoes again
  • they are now forever coated in sweet, sweet ancient greasy goodness
  • did I mention the salt
  • salt everywhere
  • but fortunately not in your pants
Went to sleep with expected aches and pains but woke at 2am in the most excruciating nerve pain of my short and ridiculous life. My entire right arm was immobilised and throbbing in a way most reminiscent of an RSI but at the same time contorting the very fibres of my soul into some bizarre and hilarious fishing knot that belongs at the end of the fishing knot book because nobody is crazy enough to learn how to do it. After consulting the significant other I slept it off and woke up in very little pain but without the strength to even push the cat out of my face. This is not an over-exercised pain, this is a something-fucked-up pain. But hey, time to become a lefty, though the deep-heat and ibuprofen has finally kicked in and I am typing with both hands.

tl;dr: highly stressful environment with occasional laughter and happiness, plus added bonus of mysterious injury affecting entire right arm, hand and all digits of right hand

  • oh, and you’ll never look at fries the same way again
  • you’ll look at them like you look at an abusive solvent-sniffing nagging woman who has just attempted to punch you in the face
  • however, you will be forever indebted to the blood, salt and tears that went into your teeny-weeny greaseball bag of nuked potato sticks
10 months ago
6 notes
  1. thatgingeonedeactivated said: *patpat*
  2. hyenas posted this