McDonalds is the Slow Death of Me

I work at McDonalds in New Brunswick, Canada. Before working there, I had no job experience – aside from a short summer job I got through family connections.

So, I applied to McDonalds because I wanted a job to make some money. Since my parents are divorced, I needed flexible hours, and McDonalds was the only place that worked with that.

Soon, I will be taking a leave of absence, but I will not be coming back. I am taking it to leave on better terms – so I can legitimately say “I found something else” later instead of quitting because “I hate it here.” Overall, the job makes me miserable, with the exception of dumb jokes between fellow employees. I am excessively underpaid for the amount of work I do, and the company (thanks to capitalism) is not going to give me the raise I deserve. On top of that, I provide a service that is unnecessary and, in fact, bad for the world. Killing animals and people (through our food) is hardly something to be proud of doing.

However, it is a job and I am almost done. If I need to get another minimum wage job (as I likely will), I am going to apply to a bookstore, library, or gaming store. I will NOT work at McDonalds again. The bosses are both good at bad.

30 years from now – university professor, I hope.