Micky D's

My McDonald’s saga started when I moved to Decatur, Illinois, about three years ago. I got an offer to play the organ at a church in Decatur. This church was similar to a church I went to in California. This church appreciated my music so much that they were going to take care of my every need while I was playing at this church.

Now, I’m living in Cairo, Il, it’s summertime, I’m in high school, I don’t want to go to the school I’m forced to attend, the church I play for doesn’t appreciate my

This McDonald’s was bogus to me then because I got written up all of the time for having fun. It wasn’t like I didn’t do any work, but they fired me because I played so often. Yes, it was silly on my part, but all my guys were fired from that job too, so I wasn’t alone. This also taught me, whether it’s a prestigious job or if it’s a job making minimum wages, I must enjoy what I do, but be responsible at the forefront.

Now that I’m older, I believe that was the best they could do at that time. I didn’t get paid for moving four hours away from my mom, I didn’t get a car, I didn’t have a good job to work, I didn’t even have a good quality instrument to play. Since I was living with this crazy aunt; none of my own means of transportation; no money, and no job, I had to get a job. I looked for a job for a week, and only accomplished completing an application. Nevertheless, one application was an automatic hire.

McDonald’s was an easy place to work at until it became lunchtime. I loved meeting new colleagues, especially the pretty ladies I got the chance to work with everyday. With me being new on the job, I didn’t know that come lunchtime I had better get on my job or go home. This was my first lunchtime swarm. The people gathered at McDonald’s like buzzards around the carcass of a rotting buffalo. As ants are in their long lines gathering for the winter, these people seemed as if they were not just hungry, but starving. The kitchen became Los Angeles rush hour traffic at five o’ clock: hectic! I had to step up to the plate and start making hamburger patties fast. I mean Big Mac’s here, Big Mac’s there; even when we finished the Big Mac’s, the Quarter Pounder orders came in, then Chicken McNuggets. “Drop some Cajun!” I could hear in the background from a manager that went from cool to serious to overwrought. During all the excitement, I would sneak in a couple of nuggets here and there just to stay calm.

It was time for school to start, I was a junior in high school, I had my first real girlfriend, and I had a real driver’s license. My mom owned a 91’ Ford, probe—still does— and it went from 0 to 60 in almost three seconds. It was gray, smooth and sleek in body structure, and rode smoother than they could make the pavement. I drove this car for the length of time I worked in Charleston. I took advantage of being able to drive my mom’s only vehicle, and didn’t realize that this was the only transportation for the whole family. (I’m extremely thankful for all Mom’s sacrifices).

I filled out this particular application to work at McDonald’s, and

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