I had just finished stocking the cups and other things at McDonald’s when a bus load of customers came in.
“Battle stations,” yelled one of the managers who rushed to one of the registers, and prepared to take orders.
I was on the window next to hers. “Welcome to McDonald’s. Can I take your order please?” I asked with a smile on my face.
“Yes. First off, I want to make things a little easier for you. I don’t have separate orders. This will be on one. I need twenty cheeseburgers with everything on them. Twenty cokes. Twenty medium orders of fries. Ten apple pies, and ten cherry pies. And that will be all, thank you,” the woman said cheerfully.
“Thank you. I get those ready for you,” I replied while heading to the drink station to get her drinks.
One of the managers backed me up by assisting me in putting together the order.
Upon assembling the order, and accepting the money, I gave the woman her change, and sent her on her way.
One of the managers looked over the schedule, and told me, “Kiki, your scheduled until three. Thank you for staying over the extra couple hours. Have a complimentary cherry pie on me. You may clock out. Have a good rest of the evening.”
I used the phone in the office to call my mom to come pick me up from work. Then I waited for her in the lobby area while I ate my pie.
Fifteen minutes later, she showed up, and we drove home.
Walking through the door of my house, I headed directly to my bedroom where I changed my clothes, and hit the books. I was studying for upcoming exams, when my father barged into my bedroom yelling, “Where were you all this time? Why have you not done the housework?”
“You know I was at work all day long today. Now, I’m studying for my exams. Mom could have done the housework while I was working. She doesn’t do anything else around here. Not only that, but you could have done some work around the house, seeing as how you don’t have a job, or do anything around the house or the yard,” I said sternly.
Grabbing me by the hair, he slapped my face, and pushed me against the wall.
I retaliated by slapping him back, grunted in a dangerous voice, “Don’t’ you ever lay a hand on me again. You do, and it will be the last breath you take.”
He raised his hand to strike me again, when I blocked his blow with my arm, “You have been warned,” I said in a loud voice. Now get the heck out of here and leave me alone to do my studies.”
“What you want with school? Education doesn’t put food on the table. Hard work and suffering does?” He yelled to me, while heading over to my table, grabbing my books and papers and throwing them against my closet door, “The classes you take are no good. I tell you so many times. You going to go to school for business or dentistry. What do you choose? Writing. How many times I tell you you not going to take that crap. There’s no way you going to be writer,” he glared at me.
“I told you before. The only way you’ll stop me from becoming a writer is to take your shotgun and blow my head off. I’m willing to die for the writing profession. Even then, I’ll be composing writing compositions in death, as well, and you’ll never stop me. I will not be a robot for you or for anyone to control,” I grunted with clenched teeth.
© Copyright, Kiki Stamatiou, 2015