Men of the Skull Chapter 19: Leaving BK

Some time ago, I decided to skip posting a bunch of chapters of my book: Men of the Skull: A Memoir of Fraternity Life in the 80s, as they didn't have fraternity hijinks.  You see, even though it IS about fraternity life, it is about MY life back then.  And chapters 19-28 were about non-fraternity related things- specifically my growing relationships with several people.

I'd found that "non-fraternity" posts in the book got only 10% of the hits that "fraternity" posts did, so I decided to skip posting those chapters.

And there was another reason as well.  They don't exactly paint me in a flattering light.  During that time, I did one of the things that I regret most in my life to this day (aside from being born.)  That isn't in this chapter- it comes soon though.  What happened STILL hurts.  But I also think that the two chapters around it are the most powerful in the book.

I decided that if a certain number of people requested that I post those chapters, that I would do it.  I set a number that meant a lot to me.  Saturday morning that number was reached, when someone politely asked to see the skipped chapters.

That number?  86.  The year I started at Penn State.

So, if you are glad to see these chapters, thank those 86 people.  If you are one of the 86: see- I listen... eventually.

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Chapter 19: Leaving BK

Sunday, October 26, 1986 Expulsions by Britain are hastened

            Working fast food is a hard job.  It’s greasy, smelly, and usually (not always) the managers treat employees like dirt.

            Easily the hardest part about working at a BK (aside from the customers) was closing.  A standard crew was five: one did the broiler, one the fryers, one the mountain of dishes, one did the front service area (soda machines and stuff), and the last did the burger boards and specialty board.  If anyone finished early, they pitched in elsewhere.  The job usually took between thirty to sixty minutes.  I knew how to close a BK because I’d done it hundreds of times in high school.  I hated doing it.

            When I was hired at BK in State College, I told them I could not work nights, as I had late classes and I needed time to study and do homework.  I didn’t mention parties, but they weren’t dumb and must’ve known that was a part as well.

            So I was surprised to see me scheduled for a closing shift.  I protested and tried to get out of it, but no dice- I had to close.

            Add to that, almost everyone else called out.  I would have to close this huge store alone.  This store was the largest BK in the US.  Its dining room was three fucking floors (it used to be a restaurant called the Train Station.)  The whole thing was huge.  And they expected me to clean it all on my own?  Fuck that!

            So it was me and two managers.  By the time we closed, the place was wrecked.

            So I chose a task and started while the managers did whatever they did.  Drained fryers, then cleaned the broiler (the hardest, dirtiest job), then cleaned the fryers, oh fuck it sucked!

            “This fucking sucks.  I can’t believe I’m fucking doing this when I have fucking work to do.  Fucking assholes!”  I said to myself, and so on. 

            Eventually one manager, then the other, came to help.  This was one AM, two hours after we closed.  They were kissing my ass. 

            “Man, we are so glad you are here doing this.  Really glad, man.  You are the best…” etc.

            Three AM, and I finally finished mopping all three floors.

            I needed money, but not that bad.  I also wanted more time to see Judy.  I got sick (honestly!) and called out for a week.  Then I called and told the manager I hated most that I was done.  I quit.

            It was all I could do not to say “Fuck you.”  Good thing I didn’t.  I would need BK later.

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