All I can do these days to prepare for my future is try to budget a little and pray to God that I don't end up caring as much about the delicacies of the fast food industry as a few of my managers do. Don't get me wrong, I've been having a SMASHINg time working so much in this place. I only have to look in the mirror at the end of a shift to know that I've clearly outdone myself spiritually and have abandoned all shallow ethics I might have grappled with in the past. Especially since I seem to keep forgetting my hands are literally infested in chicken grime whenever I try to wipe the summer-kitchen-sweat off my blotchy face.
Wow, I've gotten really good at complaining these last few weeks. I'll be honest, it feels pretty freeing to finally let myself go off the hook a little bit.
There are good things about this job, nevertheless. In the first place, I got it under pretty amazing circumstances. Nothing will make you feel more looked-after then when a barely-a-friend talks their boss in to giving a job to you. And I kind of love working with Demi and Andy. I have to keep reminding myself this is really my life right now. Forget about the grimy details (so to speak), like where I make my money. I'm living in the city I've wanted to move to since I was 13. I have to answer to no one EXCEPT my managers. I'm practically in love with both my housemates. I have all the peanut butter and slightly bad coffee I can ingest, and since I turned 18 a couple weeks ago I don't have to worry about the whole ID debacle. In other words, there is $5 chardonnay in our fridge and Peter Jackson cigarettes in my handbag and it feels right despite the overwhelming sense of wrongness it also provides.
A couple of nights ago, my housemates and I sat on Demi's mattress and smoked cigarettes and talked and laughed for a couple of hours despite being completely sober. Sometimes I guess a little tension builds up between us but then we'll have a night like that and everything will be perfect again. I griped obnoxiously to them about the perils of Fast Food and they listened. Then my chicken-grime problems didn't seem so intense and I could sleep a little better. Cheers, guys.