POOP FINGERS.

I have a friend. Let's call her Crystal-Methanie. She has been working at Freddy's for the same amount of time that I have. She complains a lot, but she is a good worker, friendly with the customers, and doesn't have TOO many piercings. Still, for some reason I am a checker and she is but a lowly courtesy bag girl. Sometimes I will ask Crystal-Methanie why she thinks she is still a courtesy. Here is her story she told me:

"I was seven years old when my grandfather first told me that I was gonna work at Freddy's. He had worked there and my grandfather's grandfather had worked there and my grandfather's grandfather's godfather had worked there. So, when I saw that they were hiring I figured this was my opportunity. Unfortunately, Grandpapa had just passed away the week before and I knew that he would be soooo proud of me for having gotten a job at Freddy's. They told me, 'Most people start off as courtesy and quickly become checkers." So, I was patient.

I washed the windows, took in the carts (even in the sleet and snow), and picked up poop off the bathroom floor. Let me tell you, once you pick up poop with your bare hands, you don't get the stain out for weeks. People look at you and go, 'There's Poop Fingers! Better hide yo' hands in yo' pockets!' Eventually, I developed the nickname Crystal-Methanie because i had turned to a life of drugs and pain. I'm not a checker yet. It may have something to do with ma' poop fingers or my drug use, but I'm pretty sure it's racial discrimination.

As a middle-class white student, the managers discriminated against me and my people. I grew up in the deep, treacherous ghettos of Beverly Hills. Then, I moved to Iowa and I thought those days were behind me. I'm thinkin' bout complainin' to Human Resources about my issue. Also, I have a complaint to make about people stealin' my lunch in the break room. I spend hours makin' my salami/peanut butter sandwiches and I don't appreciate when people steal my peanut butter. Metaphorically, peanut butter is like drugs to me. Still, I've decided to move on with my life. I will no longer pick up poop off the floor and be called 'Poop Fingers'. I will fight for women's rights and push for-"

Alright, 399 words. Good enough.