Today was the last day of my current job.  I start a new one Monday, an unglamorous position for the state.  Last days of anything put me in a mood of nostalgia, and I thought today about jobs I've had in the past.

When I was 16, I worked in fast food.  Being extravagantly shy, I preferred to stay away from where the people were, and most of my hours were spent chopping iceberg lettuce or onions or else on the drive-thru headphones, where I didn't have to interact face-to-face.

I was born sarcastic, and my hatred of pretension is native too.  One particularly resentment-makingly sunny Saturday, a horrible woman came through the drive-thru.  "I'd like a ___burger, bun toasted on both sides, onions grilled, meat medium-rare.  And uh, a half-Coke, half-Dr. Pepper."

And me:  "Ok, ma'am.  Would you like the Coke on the top, or the bottom?"

The thing is, just before she started with the, "Why you little's," she actually thought about it, in which position she wanted the Coke.  But by then, I was already back in the vegetable cooler.

Thank you, please drive through.