![]() ![]() Not surprising, since I’d known Ramon since sixth grade. ![]() I recognized Ramon’s voice without opening my eyes. Someone walked in after me and slapped me on the shoulder. I groaned and leaned my head against the wall. ![]() Nothing short of fifty bucks and a twelve-pack would have made him switch, and I didn’t have either of those. Maybe I could switch? No, the schedule told me Ramon worked grill today. There are lots of horrible things that can be done to your meal before it gets to your plate. Personally, I’m always polite to anyone who handles my food. Something about the fast food uniform makes people think it’s okay to treat you like crap. On the grill, you don’t have to handle customers. No matter what, my job kind of sucks, but on the grill it sucks less. But wishing wouldn’t erase Sam from the counter slot and rewrite it under the grill slot. I stood in front of today’s schedule still holding my skateboard, still drenched from the ride over, and still desperately wishing that I hadn’t dropped out of college. ![]()
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