A friend from my McDonald’s managing days sent me this dedication that he found in the book he’s reading:
“For anyone who has ever cried in a walk-in refrigerator.”
This is an author who understands restaurant workers.
I managed McDonald’s restaurants from age 17 through 28, first as a junior in high school, then to support myself when I was kicked out of my home, and later to put myself through college.
I was also fired from the company after being arrested and tried for a crime I didn’t commit, but I quickly found a position with a franchisee who believed in me.
When I moved from Massachusetts to Connecticut, I worked at a McDonald’s in Hartford, Connecticut, managing full-time while attending Manchester Community College, Trinity College, and St. Joseph’s University.
I would work from 4:00 AM until 1:00 PM on Monday, Wednesday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.
I would attend classes on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday afternoons and evenings and all day on Tuesday and Thursday.
I also wrote for the school newspaper, competed in statewide debates, served on the student council, and was President of the National Honor Society.
During the last two years of this schedule, my partner, Bengi, and I launched our DJ business.
I don’t know how I did it, except after being jailed, homeless, tried for a crime I didn’t commit, and the victim of a brutal crime, nothing ever seemed so difficult anymore.
When you finally escape constant hopelessness and fear, you can’t wait to start your life.
But all that said… I never cried in the walk-in refrigerator before.
I kissed girls in walk-in refrigerators.
I was asked and agreed to be the stripper for a bachelorette party in a walk-in refrigerator.
I was asked and rejected the offer of sex in a walk-in refrigerator.
I was knocked unconscious after slipping on a wet floor in a walk-in refrigerator.
I was accidentally locked in a walk-in refrigerator for about two hours during an early morning shift before an employee arrived and found me trapped inside.
But I have found many people crying in walk-in refrigerators.
Many were crying because of the stress of the shift.
Some were crying because of a love connection gone awry.
Some were crying because something in life sucked, and a walk-in refrigerator is a private place amongst the tomatoes and radishes to weep where no one will hear you.
If you need to cry, it’s not a bad place to grab a few minutes and spill some tears.
As this author clearly understands.
