While walking through the flawlessly clean door and entering the kitchen, smells surrounded and constricted my nostrils like an Anaconda slowly killing its prey. The attack, coordinated by the various disposal bins, sinks, and cleaning liquids, besieged my nasal passages, and almost knocked me clean off of my feet. The sheer ferocity of the odor was enough to make a grown man cry. The stale taste of the air emanating from the vents left a pure taste of dread and discomfort in my mouth. I could feel the tinge from various grilled and fried foods beginning to salivate my taste buds. Walking alongside the manager, I was explained the various rules and conditions for working. After the brief explanation, I was left to contend with myself. When finally managing to calm myself, I decided it was time to work. The thrumming sound of the fryers caught my attention and reminded me to start cooking. The heat that flowed from the vat seemed to call to me as I approached what looked like a death trap. The sticky sidings, left this way due to buildup of leftover grease, stuck like rubber cement to my hands. A burning sensation began to make itself known on my forehead as I began to realize that the fryer had shot a stream of grease straight into my cornea. Although the bulb of my eye felt as though it were searing into my skull, any scream or shout I could have made would have been drowned out by the seemingly overloud buzzers and sirens that indicated the completion times of cooking all of the different foods. After time that seemed to move at the speed of molasses passed, I found myself located behind the kitchen, at what would be known as the most begrudged portion of my duty; washing dishes. The severe size of the pile of unkempt dishes was quite a daunting sight, and this coming from the perception of someone who is over 6 feet tall! This mountain of dishware was so intimidating, that one’s first thought was to curl into the fetal position and cry. The scrubbing sponge, which felt as if had been left in the sun to rot, with is slimy sinewy feel, gave me the almost powerless sensation of hopelessness and doubt in my ability to begin this newly introduced assignment. At this moment, all seemed dark; the sensibility of enlightenment at this job had begun to wash away, leaving me an empty husk of obedience. Heavier, choked breathing began to pilfer through my lungs, like a train chugging out of the station. All of my thoughts of great experience and responsibility began to evaporate, like the steam coming out of the sink. Everything that had led up to this moment felt like a great weight slowly compressing my chest, making it seem pointless to keep going with a job that I didn’t even want in the first place! Why did it have to be me? Why was I meant to work here? At the moment when all of the walls began to close around me and all of the lights began to fade into a bleak void of despair, a small spot of light shot its way through. That light emanated from my manager, who surprisingly appeared behind me in my moment of disparity and spoke two words; “good job”. That was it. That was all that was needed to bring me out of the impending dwelling place that was my fear. With this newfound confidence, brought out by the revelation of my accomplishment, I firmly buckled down, popped my knuckles, and took on the challenge of joining the Bojangle’s workforce for the first time.
IT’S BO-TIME!