A little while back, my family went to New Hampshire to celebrate one of my cousins graduating from college. (I feel like I’ve mentioned this before.) Sometime during the party, I took a break from mastering Guitar Hero and sat down next to my aunt, in the chairs surrounding the fire pit.
Now for reasons you will probably be able to guess, I did not want to sit next to my aunt. I only did so because it was the only available seat, and I’d already made it clear I that I was planning on roasting marshmallows. As usual, I sat down for about ten seconds before she started prying into all the details of my life, sort of like how a deranged cannibal would pry out someone’s liver. I responded politely and all, but a keen observer would’ve noticed that my eyes were twitching from the intense desire to roll them, over and over again.
Anyway, after lamenting over how my parents didn’t send me to a proper catholic school like she did with her kids, she asked me if I had a job yet or not, to which I said no.
“What? You don’t have a job yet? But, you’re sixteen!” She called to her husband who was about twenty feet away. “Hey, did you know Matthew doesn’t have a job yet?”
“What?” he said, “I had my first job when I was eight years old.” And so the rest of the family members had a very long and nostalgic conversation about their first job, and they only roped me back into it whenever I thought I was safe to leave. This long and boring conversation got me thinking: hey, why don’t I have a job? I started to think about what my fictional mentor, Dr. Cox, would say if he found out I didn’t have one, and decided it would probably be something like this:
“I’d lu-hove to give you a little speech on how sad and pathetic your life is but unfortunately, Sheila, I’m just not a very big fan of talking to people who contribute absolutely nothing to society. Honestly, I’m better off talking to a car, or a desk, or oh, gosh, I don’t know, the very chair you’re sitting on, right now. Because at least that chair is providing someone a place to sit down. Sure, that someone is just a sad, unemployed jackass, and all the chair’s really doing is allowing said jackass to sit and ponder upon his own jackassery, but we shouldn’t judge the poor chair just because someone like you happens to be using it.” He would then start talking to the chair in a soothing voice, saying things like “It’s okay,” and “someone better will come along…”
Imagining Dr. Cox insulting me multiple times a sentence got me motivated, and so I started applying for jobs as soon as possible. First I applied for a movie theater, then Denny’s, Hannaford’s, Subway, Wendy’s, Burger King, Shoprite, Dunkin Donuts, another Dunkin Donuts and finally McDonald’s, all of which were nearby. You may find it surprising that I applied for McDonald’s last, especially since as of 2013, there are more McDonalds than people in America today. (Don’t look that last part up; just take my word for it.) I’ve decided that I’d only apply for Mcdonald’s as a last resort, mostly because my brother works for Burger King, and if I got a job at McDonalds we would have to be enemies. As in, even worse enemies than we are now. (And besides, I heard that job’s terrible.) And as of now, not a single one of the other restaurants has replied to me. Yet.
I know, it’s been less than a week, so perhaps I should be a bit more patient. But considering that my brother literally only applied for one job and got it two days later, I thought this whole process would be easier. Maybe I’m just really bad at filling out applications…
(Ha, who am I kidding? I’m not bad at anything.)
So, what do you think? Should I be more patient? Should I apply to more places? Should I join the circus? If I do get hired by McDonalds, would that make me morally obligated to murder my brother and steal his crown? I sincerely hope not. What was your first job, if you’ve had one? Have you ever had the McRib? If so, was it any good?