By the beginning of the dinner rush
The golden arches shined bright.
Cars whirred by my window
The people inside acting impolite
And stubborn as a stone.

We exchange greetings
Faking smiles, pretending to care,
A basic system for a basic society.

There was that time you grew upset with me,
For misunderstanding your desired order.
Your face was more red
Than the tomato you say you never received

One day, you decide to yell
Outraged by our lack of onions.
You say you’d like to speak to a manager.

With a disrespected sigh,
That sank through my chest
Like an anchor to sand
I grabbed the man
Dressed in the finest blue shirt
A symbol of status,
In this hierarchy he was a king
And I was but a peasant.

He spat back to you
The same calming words I had
But this time, you listened.
Content with such a result,
you left us behind.

My fondest memory
Of the worst job of my life.