Sad People Love Fast Food

Sure, we all know that I've only been in the business of dishing up the fast food delicacies for almost two months, but, even in such a narrow timeframe, I have already witnessed the most depressing trend that could possibly exist. Sad people (and really, let's just be honest and just say people in shitty moods in general) are attracted to fast food. I'm not even exaggerating this at all. It's probably the greatest love story/ romantic rendezvous that has ever occurred.

Droopy faces and fat thighs come waddling in through the front doors at around 6 or 7 o'clock in the evening like clockwork. With distant eyes and exhausted minds, these people aren't hard to miss. It gets even better when they approach the counter and you have to ask them how their day was and they just release this long, heavy sigh and let their eyes flicker under the florescent lighting. You really wish you could just walk away and wait for someone else to help the customer, but it's really too late.

Me: How are you doing today, m'am?
Customer: *long, heavy sigh*
Me: One of those days, huh?
Customer: You have no idea.
Me: *fake laugh that everyone knows is totally fake and actually a deep-seeded cry for help*

As someone who interacts with these people on a regular basis, it can be a little, shall we say, weird. You want to treat them just like any other customer that walks in the door but it's like they are dragging a sack of steaming cow dung behind them and it kind of really smells bad. The dark, thick cloud of suck hanging in the air is just the cherry on top of a super awesome 5-hour shift.

One time, when I was working the evening shift at work, a woman came in during a dead time and I was working the counter. She seemed so out of it. She would mentally tune out reality and then, once she'd returned back down to earth, apologize for being so out of it. Finally, when I was finishing up her order by offering her sweet and sour sauce, she started telling me all about how she'd recently had her mother put in a nursing home and how exhausted she was and how she really didn't care what she put in her body as long as it was food. I could have probably fed her cold food, and she would have been fine with it. I'm not that mean, though.

WHY WOULD YOU TELL ME THAT? MY JOB IS ALREADY KIND OF DEPRESSING AS IT IS SO WHY WOULD YOU BRING MORE SADNESS TO IT? 

But, let me tell you, the best part (and I really meant THE best part) of this whole ordeal is when you tell them to have a nice day and they just roll their eyes like they have just given up all hope in ever feeling a real feeling ever again.

I witness people give up on life and any possibilities of them actually enjoying their cold sweet and sour chicken every shift I work. I'm probably going to need years of therapy after this. Or I'll finally have the inspiration for my first great American novel.

But that's kind of the same thing, right?