Same. Every day was like a lengthy masterclass in infinite fresh flavors of assholery and Karen-hood. As soon as you think you’ve plumbed the shadowy depths of the human condition, the floor comes out from under you. Then, all of a sudden, you’re gazing straight into the maw of a clapped out Chevy Trailblazer where there used to be a drive thru window, and the driver is now prancing around nude, ranting about dipping sauces and firing a 12-gauge into the ceiling tiles.
I worked a drive-through for long enough to believe it.
Same. Every day was like a lengthy masterclass in infinite fresh flavors of assholery and Karen-hood. As soon as you think you’ve plumbed the shadowy depths of the human condition, the floor comes out from under you. Then, all of a sudden, you’re gazing straight into the maw of a clapped out Chevy Trailblazer where there used to be a drive thru window, and the driver is now prancing around nude, ranting about dipping sauces and firing a 12-gauge into the ceiling tiles.