Would You Like Fries With That?

I graduated from high school in June of 1986, at age seventeen, and soon after got a job at a fast food joint. The typical first step in a teenager's road to independence. They started me at $3.35 an hour, which was the minimum wage that year, but upon learning that I was a graduate, not just a student working for mall money, I was given a thirty five cent raise. Woo-Hoo! Seriously, woohoo! I was, after all, expected to supplement my mother's child support payments that would soon end upon my eighteenth birthday that coming fall. I was also saving up for a car, and a place of my own. My first few months were spent caring for the dining room. I wiped tables, stocked ketchup packages and plastic utensils. I vacuumed after toddler's messes, and sopped up the occasional cola spill. I also chopped vegetables, refilled dressings, and continuously iced down the salad bar. I loved it! To this day, the collective scent of fresh garden fare just brings me to life. Although I had always had a very shy personality, I made a few friends. Some of my coworkers had been fellow students with me at the high school, but we had never connected in that arena because we traveled in very different social packs. One such person was a boy that I had seriously crushed on in the tenth grade, who had repeatedly overlooked me. Another such person was the ex-boyfriend of a very good friend. He was several years older, in his twenties, and was actually one of my shift managers. Eventually, I was moved to the drive thru register. It was a much more challenging position, but I grew to be seriously efficient with taking orders, assisting to build those orders, accepting payment and getting customers on their way rather quickly. In fact, during a store inspection by some higher ups, I was timed, and commended on my ability. During the slower hours, I breaded chicken fillets, restocked the condiment containers, the cups, lids, straws, and napkins, too. One thing I couldn't quite conquer was keeping a steady cycle of potatoes roasting in the oven, and we often ran out, and had to turn down customers that placed a potato order. I was often reprimanded for that. I didn't mind the reprimands, because the perks of the job were so highly beneficial to me. At any time, I could reach behind me, into the chicken nugget bin, and grab a tasty snack. At the end of each summer day, I enjoyed a super-sized chocolate shake on the sweltering walk home. Just dreamy! It wasn't long before I began to notice my shift manager, I'll call him "Vince", taking long moments to glare at me from his desk in the back office. The office had a large plate glass window that faced the drive through register, where I stood for much of the day. Sometimes, when I caught him staring, he would avert his eyes, and sometimes he would not. For quite some time I couldn't tell if I was being evaluated for my work performance, or for something of a more personal nature. It became more clear on one afternoon when the sky became cloudy and Vince offered me a ride home after my shift. I accepted. I was a little excited to think that maybe, just maybe, Vince felt some attraction to me. But also a little confused, because he was indeed my good friend's ex, and she did have some lingering feelings for him. He was slightly handsome, tall and lean, with very short reddish-blond hair. He was friendly, and often helpful. He was talkative, although he took his position very seriously, and remained a little stand offish during work hours. I decided that if we became friends, and even flirted, it would be okay, but I would not date him. After the shift, we walked to his car. He unlocked my door and opened it, closing it once I was inside and settled. When he got in, he asked me where I lived, and I gave him the simple directions, being that I lived in the back of the neighborhood that was pretty much across the street. And so he drove across the busy main state road, upon which our restaurant sat, through the traffic light, and onto the side street that t-boned my community. Coming up to my turn, I pointed and said "This is the turn", but he drove on by. "That's okay", I said, "there's another street up ahead that you can use". But again, he drove right on by. "Where are you going?" I asked. No reply. I leaned my back against the seat, and realized that he had been silent the whole time. I had gabbed a little about the lunch rush, and about how his ex was vacationing in Hawaii this summer, but he had never said a word. He hadn't even looked at me. Even now as I glared at him the way he had done to me for the past week. The silence was broken when he said "I'll turn around up here", and then he quickly turned the wheel and pulled onto a dirt road on a large wooded lot, that was in the process of being cleared for a future housing development. I had braced myself in the hard turn, half against the seat, and half against the door, and again when the car came to an abrupt stop. Should I go on? Do I really need to give the details about what happened next, or do you think you can tap into your imagination and make an educated guess about the events preceding Vince handing me a napkin, starting the car, and backing the car out, and off of that solitary dirt road? I probably couldn't give you all the details anyway, because the whole thing happened so fast I didn't even really know what was happening, until after it became something that had happened. So, what happened next? He took me home, and I went about my evening. Of course, my head was filled with masses of confusion...Was this his way of expressing that he liked me? Does this mean we're together now? And let's not forget the guilt... How was I going to explain this to my good friend? What did this mean for the boy I was currently semi-dating? (That's a whole other story). Hmm, things to ponder. The next day, I went to work, like every other day before it. I was strangely excited to see if Vince would be there, and yet I was extremely nervous as well. I mean, we did have sex. It may not have been completely consensual (a word it would take me a very long time to comprehend), but it was sex, nonetheless. I was on the edge of my seat to see how the dynamic had changed. Much to my bewilderment, it hadn't. Vince continued to carry on with his managerial duties exactly the way he always had. Well, not exactly, exactly. He paid much less attention to me, speaking in my direction only when it came to delegating tasks during and after the lunch rush. I did notice that a few extra chores were added to my job description, and I will explain those in future postings, as they did become relative to this experience.