He jumps on my back every time I turn down overtime26 VIPs have spoken »
It’s been a while since we delved into my high school journal so let’s go back to July 28, 1985. There was so much in this entry (more than five handwritten pages) that I have to chop this up. Here’s part one.
Just saw a commercial for a Whopper with cheese. YUCK! I work at “the home of the Whopper.” I live, eat, dream, smell (etc.) of Burger King. And I can’t stand it! It’s the scum pit of the world, believe me, I know…
Finally, after working there for a month, they gave me a paycheck. No dear, we don’t get paid once every two weeks. It’s once a week. Anyway, they finally gave me a check and let me tell you I’m working for PEANUTS!!!
There’s no way I’m even gonna come close to paying for any of my college education and Mr. Know It All Jack (my brother) jumps on my back every time I turn down overtime. You know, sometimes I just want ONE day off, just to get away!
So I think, ‘Reason with him, explain yourself!”
“Jack, I don’t feel like working today, I’ve worked the last five days.” No dice.
“I remember when I worked at McDonald’s. After a 50-hour work week Dad would make me work overtime!” I doubt it dearie.
It’s almost like he wants me to suffer like he did (?) He wasn’t satisfied until I worked at a fast food place and even that isn’t good enough. Why don’t I work 22 hours a day, seven days a week? That probably wouldn’t please him.
Talk about having it easy! He sleeps til 2:00 pm every day, stays up until 3:00 am, watches TV in between and jumps when Donna tells him to. And believe me, he doesn’t jump he says, “How high? Was that good enough? Want me to jump higher? No? Lower? Sure thing, dear.”
She leads him around by the nose and he goes willingly. I hope someday I can latch on to a stupid sucker (for a boyfriend) like Donna did with Jack. I’m watching and taking notes.
There’s always so much to explain, so let’s start at the beginning. If memory serves, I worked at Burger King for about a month. Maybe six weeks. You may recall there was an Incident With a Burger. I will go to my grave denying that.
It. Was. Not. Me.
Moving on. It did take forever to get that first paycheck and I was really getting annoyed. I think I was addressing the manager whose name was Clint when I wrote, “No dear, we don’t get paid once every two weeks. It’s once a week.”
I remember his name because the only other Clint I’d ever heard of at that time was Mr. Eastwood. So this guy was extremely anal retentive and he would pop into the restaurant during his vacation to see if we were slacking off. He was a career manager and had a family he was supporting so maybe he was looking for job security.
Regardless, he was pissing me off. And it appears that I was into using the word “dear” or “dearie” when I was pissed.
I have no idea how my brother knew I was turning down overtime. Obviously I must have blabbed about it, because he wasn’t psychic. And I do remember him constantly bitching about how much he had to work at McDonald’s when he was in high school. When he said “Dad would make me work overtime!” I should have replied, “That’s because Dad is a dick.”
In retrospect, I’m positive my dad made him work overtime during the summer. And I’m positive my dad was a dick.
I love that I was just tapped out after working five days in a row. I’m quite certain those were not eight-hour shifts. Possibly four hours. Yes, that’s right. Twenty hours behind the counter was extremely taxing and I just needed one day away.
I have no idea why my brother was not working at that time. He was 25 and worked as an engineer all of his adult life. It could be that he was laid off from Chrysler. I know there was a period of time when he was looking for a new job after being laid off. It must have been the summer of 1985.
Anyway, he was clearly living the life of Riley and did not have a leg to stand on, in my 17-year-old opinion. And his then-girlfriend was calling all the shots. Again, in my teenage opinion. He really did jump at her every whim. And obviously that pissed me off enough to refer to him as a “stupid sucker.” Strong language for a teenager, eh?
I also enjoy the fact that I was sarcastically making mental notes. Put that in your pipe and smoke it, Jack.