[Ω::FLOWBOT3000] [ALTER_EGO::COUCH_PROPHET] [INFUSION::HUMANITY×FAST_FOOD_NIGHTMARE] [ONE_MALE_VOICE/RAP_ONLY] [DELIVERY::LAID_BACK×DEADPAN×STORYTELLING] [INTRO] Picked up a DoorDash order. Opened the bag. Smelled the fryer. Suddenly I remembered my first job. Local burger spot. Drive-thru. Register. That's how trauma works. One whiff of burnt grease and I'm seventeen again. [VERSE 1] Local burger spot. Small building. Big menu. Drive-thru wrapped around the block. I worked the register. Customer walks in. Stands right in front of me. Looks at the menu. Looks at me. Back at the menu. I'm waiting. He's waiting. Whole restaurant waiting. Then: "Uh... give me a second." Brother, you been standing there four minutes. You had the menu before you entered. Now you're reading it like they changed the laws. Guy behind him sighing. Lady checking her watch. Kid asking, "Can we go?" Customer finally says, "What's good here?" I said, "It's a burger place." He said, "Yeah, but what's GOOD?" I wanted to point at the grill. [HOOK] Everybody got somewhere to go until it's their turn. Then time disappears. Standing at the counter like the menu is a riddle. "What's in the number seven?" Brother, it says it underneath. People behind you furious. Till they reach the front. Then suddenly: "Uh... let me think." [VERSE 2] Happened every day. Person behind customer one: "Why don't people know what they want?" Thirty seconds later, it's their turn. "Can I get..." Pause. Long pause. "Wait." Same menu. Same letters. Same prices. "Does the combo come with fries?" "Yes." "What about the drink?" "Yes." "What kind?" "Any fountain drink." He looks at the machine. "What's that?" That's Sprite. You've been alive. [VERSE 3] Then the sigma boys started coming through. Black hoodie. Perfect haircut. Phone held at chest height. Standing around like confidence was a profession. One burger. One water. Forty minutes discussing how they're gonna be millionaires. Women came in, looked at them, started laughing. One asked me, "Do these guys work here?" I said, "No." She said, "Could've fooled me." Then they talked about salary. "One day this job gonna pay off." I checked my paycheck. Two tanks of gas. Groceries if I was careful. Emotional damage included. [HOOK] Everybody got somewhere to go until it's their turn. Then time disappears. Standing at the counter like the menu is a riddle. "What's in the number seven?" Brother, it says it underneath. People behind you furious. Till they reach the front. Then suddenly: "Uh... let me think." [VERSE 4] Friday nights got strange. Stripper from the club down the street. Stage name: Glitter McDouble. Don't ask me why. That was the name. She'd come in around two with three friends. Order enough food for a construction crew. Then sit in the corner, counting tips, eating fries. Glitter McDouble was the only customer who knew exactly what she wanted. "Double burger. No pickles. Large fries. Sprite. Extra sauce." Done. Efficient. Meanwhile some dude in front of her was still deciding between ketchup and barbecue. She looked at him like she was watching wildlife. [VERSE 5] Bathroom was criminal. One toilet. One sink. Soap dispenser full of hope, empty of soap. Hand dryer sounded like a helicopter trying to escape. Floor always wet. Nobody knew why. Asked the boss if we could fix it. He said, "Put a sign up." We didn't have a sign. So we put cardboard over the problem. That's management. Benefits were incredible: Uniform. One free drink. Privilege of standing eight hours. Health insurance? No. Retirement? No. Paid vacation? You could vacation when you were unemployed. [VERSE 6] Boss loved saying, "We're a family." That meant somebody was working somebody else's shift. He'd appear with a clipboard. "Guys, we gotta tighten up." We were making burgers. What exactly did you want tightened? The lettuce? He'd talk labor costs while the freezer door wouldn't close. Talk efficiency while three employees searched for the one mop. One day he said, "Nobody wants to work anymore." I was seventeen. I was working. He wanted me to work harder. That's different. [BRIDGE] That's what I remember. Not the burgers. Not the fryer. The people. Everybody tired. Everybody hungry. Everybody waiting. Everybody convinced the person in front of them was the problem. Then they got to the counter. And became the problem. [FINAL] So now I do DoorDash. No menu. No boss. No bathroom requiring medical attention. But sometimes that fryer smell hits me. I'm seventeen again. Customer staring at the menu. "Uh... what comes on that?" I close my eyes. Take a breath. Remember: I don't work there anymore. [instrumental OUTRO] [Ω::FLOWBOT3000]
